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FAMOUS    PRIVATEERSMEN 

AND  ADVENTURERS    OF  THE  SEA 


FAMOUS  LEADERS  SERIES 

BY 
CHARLES  H.  L.  JOHNSTON 

Each  OTIC  volume.  larfie  12mo,  illustrated, 
$1.50 


FAMOUS  CAVALRY  LEADERS 
FAMOUS  INDIAN  CHIEFS 
FAMOUS  SCOUTS 
FAMOUS  PRIVATEERSMEN 
FAMOUS  FRONTIERSMEN 


THE  PAGE  COMPANY 

53  Beacon  Street,  Boston,  Mass, 


(  •  J       J  to     .    1  • 


From  "  The  Army  and  Navy  of  the  United  States." 

"  AGAIN    THE    CANNON    MADE   THE    SPLINTERS    FLY 

(^See  page  273.) 


Famous  Privatccrsmcn 


AND  ADVENTURERS  OP  THE  SEA 

Their  rovlngs,  cruises,  escapades,  and 

fierce  battling  upon  the  ocean 

for  patriotism  and  for 

treasure 


By 
CHARLES  H.  L.  JOHNSTON 

Author  of  "  Famous  Cavalry  Leaders,"  '^  Farooixs 
Indian  Chiefs,"  "  Famous  Scouts/'  ^to. 


Illustrated 


BOSTON      5§      THE    PAGE 
COMPANY    iC    PUBLISHERS 


•       •    • 


Copyright,  igii, 

By  L.  C.  Page  &  Company 

(incorporated) 

All  rights  reserved 


First  Impression,  November,  191 1 
Second  Impression,  November,  1914 


THE   COLONIAL   PRESS 
C.   H.    SIMONDS   CO.,    BOSTON,    U.  8.  A, 


I    DEDICATE    THIS    BOOK   TO   THE    HAPPY    MEMORY   OF 

O^^orge  Altob  ^^ntg 

THE   MOST   STIMULATING   AUTHOR   OF   BOOKS   FOR   BOYS 
THAT    THE    PAST    HALF    CENTURY    HAS    PRODUCED, 
AND    A    WRITER    WHO     HAS     KEPT    ALIVE    THE 
SPIRIT  OF  MANLY    SPORT   AND   ADVENTURE 
WHICH    HAS    MADE  THE  ANGLO-SAXON 
PEOPLE   A    RACE   OF   WORLD   CON- 
QUERORS.   MAY   THEY    NEVER 
RETROGRADE  I 


4C9200 


Thanks  are  due  the  Librarian  of  Congress, 
and  particularly  to  Mr.  Roberts  of  the  Depart- 
ment of  Prints,  for  numerous  courtesies  ex- 
tended to  the  author  during  the  compilation  of 
this  volume. 


PREFACE 

My  dear  Boys  :  —  The  sea  stretches  away  from  the 
land,  —  a  vast  sheet  of  unknown  possibilities.  Now 
gray,  now  blue,  now  slate  colored,  whipped  into  a  thou- 
sand windrows  by  the  storm,  churned  into  a  seething 
mass  of  frothing  spume  and  careening  bubbles,  it 
pleases,  lulls,  then  terrorizes  and  dismays.  Perpetually 
intervening  as  a  barrier  between  peoples  and  their 
countries,  the  wild,  sobbing  ocean  rises,  falls  and  roars 
in  agony.  It  is  a  stoppage  to  progress  and  contact  be- 
tween races  of  men  and  warring  nations. 

In  the  breasts  of  all  souls  slumbers  the  fire  of  ad- 
venture. To  penetrate  the  unknown,  to  there  find 
excitement,  battle,  treasure,  so  that  one's  future  life 
can  be  one  of  ease  and  indolence  —  for  this  men  have 
sacrificed  the  more  stable  occupations  on  land  in  order 
to  push  recklessly  across  the  death-dealing  billows. 
They  have  battled  with  the  elements;  they  have  suf- 
fered dread  diseases;  they  have  been  tormented  with 
thirst;  with  a  torrid  sun  and  with  strange  weather; 
they  have  sorrowed  and  they  have  sinned  in  order  to 
gain  fame,  fortune,  and  renown.  On  the  wide  sweep 
of  the  ocean,  even  as  on  the  rolling  plateau  of  the  once 
uninhabited  prairie,  many  a  harrowing  tragedy  has 
been  enacted.  These  dramas  have  often  had  no  chron- 
icler, —  the  battle  was  fought  out  in  the  silence  of  the 

vU 


viii  PEEFACE 

watery  waste,  and  there  has  been  no  tongue  to  tell  of 
the  solitary  conflict  and  the  unseen  strife. 

Of  sea  fighters  there  have  been  many :  the  pirate,  the 
fillibusterer,  the  man-of-warsman,  and  the  privateer. 
The  first  was  primarily  a  rufifian  and,  secondarily,  a 
brute,  although  now  and  again  there  were  pirates  w'ho 
shone  by  contrast  only.  The  fillibusterer  was  also  en- 
gaged in  lawless  fighting  on  the  sea  and  to  this  service 
were  attracted  the  more  daring  and  adventurous  souls 
who  swarmed  about  the  shipping  ports  in  search  of 
employment  and  pelf.  The  man-of-warsman  was  the 
legitimate  defender  of  his  country's  interests  and 
fought  in  the  open,  without  fear  of  death  or  imprison- 
ment from  his  own  people.  The  privateersman  —  a 
combination  of  all  three —  was  the  harpy  of  the  rolling 
ocean,  a  vulture  preying  upon  the  merchant  marine  of 
the  enemy  to  his  country,  attacking  only  those  weaker 
than  himself,  scudding  off  at  the  advent  of  men-of- 
warsmen,  and  hovering  where  the  guileless  merchant- 
man passed  by.  The  privateersman  was  a  gentleman 
adventurer,  a  protected  pirate,  a  social  highwayman  of 
the  waters.  He  throve,  grew  lusty,  and  prospered,  — 
a  robber  legitimized  by  the  laws  of  his  own  people. 

So  these  hardy  men  went  out  upon  the  water,  sailed 
forth  beneath  the  white  spread  of  new-made  canvas, 
and,  midst  the  creaking  of  spars,  the  slapping  of  ropes, 
the  scream  of  the  hawser,  the  groan  of  the  windlass, 
and  the  ruck  and  roar  of  wave-beaten  wood,  carved  out 
their  destinies.  They  fought.  They  bled.  They  con- 
quered and  were  defeated.  In  the  hot  struggle  and  the 
desperate  attack  they  played  their  parts  even  as  the  old 


PREFACE  /  ix 

Vikings  of  Norway  and  the  sea  rovers  of  the  Mediter- 
ranean. 

Hark  to  the  stories  of  those  wild  sea  robbers! 
Listen  to  the  tales  of  the  adventurous  pillagers  of  the 
rolling  ocean !  And  —  as  your  blood  is  red  and  you, 
yourself,  are  fond  of  adventure  —  ponder  upon  these 
histories  with  satisfaction,  for  these  stalwart  seamen 

"  Fought  and  sailed  and  took  a  prize 
Even  as  it  was  their  right, 
Drank  a  glass  and  kissed  a  maid 
Between  the  volleys  of  a  fight. 
Don't  begrudge  their  lives  of  danger, 
You  are  better  off  by  far, 
But,  if  war  again  comes,  —  stranger, 
Hitch  your  wagon  to  their  star." 

Charles  H.  L.  Johnston. 


The  bugle  calls  to  quarters, 

The  roar  of  guns  is  clear, 

Now  —  ram  your  charges  home,  Lads ! 

And  cheer,  Boys !   Cheer ! 


CONTENTS 

rA6C 

Preface vii 

Carlo  Zeno:    Hero  of  the  Venetian  Republic  .        .        .  i 

Sir  Francis  Drake:    Rover  and  Sea  Ranger      ...  23 

Sir  Walter  Raleigh  :   Persecutor  of  the  Spaniards  •        .  53 

Jean  Bart:    The  Scourge  of  the  Dutch    ....  83 

Du  Guay-Trouin:    The  Great  French  "Blue"      .        .113 

Edward  England:    Terror  of  the  South  Seas  .       .        .137 

Woodes  Rogers:    The  Bristol  Mariner      ....  153 

Fortunatus  Wright:    The  Most  Hated  Privateersman 

OF  the  Mediterranean  Sea 173 

George  Walker:    Winner  of  the  Gamest  Sea  Fight  of 

the  English  Channel 199 

John  Paul  Jones  :  The  Founder  of  the  American  Navy  239  ^ 

Captain  Silas  Talbot:    Staunch  Privateersman  of  New 

England 283  ^ 

Captain  "  Josh  "  Barney  :    The  Irrepressible  Yankee    .  299 

Robert  Surcouf:    The  "Sea  Hound"  from  St.  Malo      .  319 

Lafitte:    Privateer,  Pirate,  and  Terror  of  the  Gulf  of 

Mexico 3.ji 

Raphael  Semmes:   Despoiler  of  American  Commerce     .  373 

El   Capitan 393 

Retrospect 397 


LIST  OF   ILLUSTRATIONS 

PAGE 

"  Again  the  cannon  made  the  splinters  fly  " 

{See  page  273)        Frontispiece 

Zeno's    Fleet 18 

Sir  Francis  Drake 28 

Drake's  Greatest  Victory  on  the  Spanish  Main    .        •  44 

Young  Raleigh  and  a  companion  listening  to  tales  of 

THE  Spanish   Main 55 

Sir  Walter  Raleigh        ...       ^        ....  60 

Jean    Bart 86 

*'  Jean  Bart  led  his  boarders  over  the  side  of  the  Dutch 

vessel" i;o8 

Combat    betv.een    Du    Guay  -  Trouin    and    Van    Was- 

SENAER 135 

" '  Left    us    engaged    with     barbarous     and    inhuman 

ENEMIES  '  " 146 

"  The   BOARDERS    WERE   REPULSED   WITH    GREAT   SLAUGHTER  "      •  193 

Action  between  the  "  Glorioso  "  and  the  "  King  George  " 

AND  "Prince  Frederick"  under  George  Walker        •  231 

American  Privateer  taking  possession  of  a  Prize  •        •  239 

'*  Began  to  hull  the  '  Drake  '  below  the   water-line  "  261 

"  They    swarmed    into    the    forecastle    amidst    fierce 

cheers  " 2^7 

"  Talbot,  himself,  at  the  head  of  his  entire  crew,  came 

leaping  across  the  side" 289 

American   Privateer  capturing  two  English   Ships        •  298 

"  SURCOUF    scanned    HER    CAREFULLY    THROUGH    HIS    GLASS  "  336 

Raphael    Semmes 3/6 

"The    men    were   shouting   v/ildly,    as   each    projectile 

TOOK    effect" 386 


CARLO   ZENO 

HERO  OF  THE  VENETIAN   REPUBLIC 

(1344- 1418) 


"  Paradise  is  under  the  shadow  of  swords."  —  Mahomet. 


Famous  Privateersmen 

AND   ADVENTURERS  OF  THE   SEA 


CARLO  ZENO 

HERO  OF  THE  VENETIAN  REPUBLIC 

(1344-1418) 

Zeno,  noble  Zeno,  with  your  curious  canine  name, 

You  shall  never  lack  for  plaudits  in  the  golden  hall  of  fame, 

For  you  fought  as  well  with  galleys  as  you  did  with  burly  men. 

And  your  deeds  of  daring  seamanship  are  writ  by  many  a  pen. 

From  sodden,  gray  Chioggia  the  singing  Gondoliers, 

Repeat  in  silvery  cadence  the  story  of  your  years, 

The  valor  of  your  comrades  and  the  courage  of  your  foe. 

When  Venice  strove  with  Genoa,  full  many  a  year  ago. 

THE  torches  fluttered  from  the  walls  of  a  burial 
vault  in  ancient  Venice.    Two  shrouded  figures 
leaned  over  the  body  of  a  dead  warrior,  and, 
as  they  gazed  upon  the  wax-like  features,  their  eyes 
were  filled  with  tears. 

"  See,"  said  the  taller  fellow.  "  He  has  indeed  led 
the  stalwart  life.  Here  are  five  and  thirty  wounds  upon 
the  body  of  our  most  renowned  compatriot.  He  was 
a  true  hero." 

"  You  speak  correctly,  O  Knight,"  answered  the 
other.    "  Carlo  Zeno  was  the  real  warrior  without  fear 

3 


4  FAMOUS   PRIVATEERSMEN 

and  without  reproach.  He  has  fared  badly  at  the  hands 
of  the  Republic.  But  then,  —  is  this  not  Hfe?  Those 
most  worthy  seem  never  to  receive  their  just  com- 
pensation during  their  living  hours.  It  is  only  when 
they  are  dead  that  a  tardy  public  gives  them  some  rec- 
ognition of  the  great  deeds  which  they  have  done,  the 
battles  which  they  have  fought,  and  the  honor  which 
they  have  brought  to  their  native  land.  Alas!  poor 
Zeno!  He  —  the  true  patriot  —  has  had  but  scant 
and  petty  praise." 

So  saying  the  two  noble  Venetians  covered  the  pros- 
trate form  of  the  dead  warrior  —  for  they  had  lifted 
the  brown  robe  which  enshrouded  him  —  and,  with 
slow  faltering  steps,  they  left  the  gloomy  chamber  of 
death. 

Who  was  this  Venetian  soldier,  who,  covered  with 
the  marks  of  battle,  lay  in  his  last  sleep?  Who  —  this 
hero  of  war's  alarms?  This  patriotic  leader  of  the 
rough-and-ready  rovers  of  the  sea? 

It  was  Carlo  Zeno,  —  a  man  of  the  best  blood  of 
Venice,  —  who,  commanding  fighting  men  and  fight- 
ing ships,  had  battled  strenuously  and  well  for  his 
native  country. 

The  son  of  Pietro  Zeno  and  Agnese  Dandolo,  this 
famous  Venetian  had  been  well  bred  to  the  shock  of 
battle,  for  his  father  was  for  some  time  Governor  of 
Padua,  and  had  won  a  great  struggle  against  the 
Turks,  when  the  careening  galleys  of  the  Venetian 
Squadron  grappled  blindly  with  the  aggressive  men  of 
the  Ottoman  Empire.  There  were  ten  children  in  the 
family  and  little  Carlo  was  named  after  the  Emperor 


CARLO    ZENO  5 

Charles  IV,  who  sent  a  retainer  to  the  baptism  of  the 
future  seaman,  saying,  ''  I  wish  the  child  well.  He 
has  a  brave  and  noble  father  and  I  trust  that  his  future 
will  be  auspicious." 

Little  Carlo  was  destined  for  the  Church,  and,  with 
a  Latin  eulogium  in  his  pocket  (which  his  Venetian 
school-master  had  written  out  for  him)  was  sent  to 
the  court  of  the  Pope  at  Avignon.  The  sweet-faced 
boy  was  but  seven  years  of  age.  He  knelt  before  the 
prelate  and  his  retainers,  reciting  the  piece  of  prose 
with  such  precision,  grace,  and  charm,  that  all  were 
moved  by  his  beauty,  his  memory,  his  spirit,  and  his 
liveliness  of  person. 

"  You  are  indeed  a  noble  youth,"  cried  the  Pope. 
"  You  shall  come  into  my  household.  There  you 
shall  receive  an  education  and  shall  be  a  canon  of  the 
cathedral  of  Patras,  with  a  rich  benefice." 

But  little  Carlo  did  not  remain.  Although  dressed 
like  a  mimic  priest  and  taught  with  great  care,  the 
hot  blood  of  youth  welled  in  his  veins  and  made  him 
long  for  a  life  more  active  and  more  dangerous.  So 
he  looked  about  for  adventure  so  thoroughly  that  he 
was  soon  able  to  have  his  first  narrow  escape,  and  a 
part  in  one  of  those  many  brawls  which  were  to 
come  to  him  during  his  career  of  war  and  adventure. 

Sent  by  his  relations  to  the  University  of  Padua, 
he  was  returning  to  Venice  from  the  country,  one 
day,  when  a  man  leaped  upon  him  as  he  walked  down 
a  narrow  road. 

"  Who  are  you  ?  "  cried  Carlo  fearfully. 

But    the    fellow    did    not    answer.      Instead,  —  he 


6         FAMOUS   PRIVATEERSMEN 

struck  him  suddenly  with  a  stout  cudgel  —  knocked 
him  senseless  on  the  turf,  took  all  the  valuables  which 
he  had,  and  ran  silently  away  into  the  gloom. 

Little  Carlo  came  to  his  senses  after  many  hours, 
and,  staggering  forward  with  weakened  steps,  reached 
Mestre,  where  kind  friends  dressed  his  wounds. 

"  I  shall  catch  this  assailant,"  cried  he,  when  he  had 
revived.  "  He  shall  rue  the  day  that  he  ever  touched 
the  person  of  Carlo  Zeno."  And  forthwith  he  secured 
a  number  of  bloodhounds  with  which  to  track  the 
cowardly  ruffian  of  the  highway. 

Luck  was  with  the  future  commander  of  the  galleons 
and  fighting  men.  He  ran  the  scurvy  assailant  to 
earth,  like  a  fox.  He  captured  him,  bound  him  and 
handed  him  over  to  the  justice  of  Padua,  —  where  — 
for  the  heinousness  of  the  offense  —  the  man  was 
executed.  So  ended  the  first  conflict  in  which  the 
renowned  Carlo  Zeno  was  engaged,  —  successfully  — 
as  did  most  of  his  later  battles. 

Not  long  afterwards  young  Zeno  returned  to  his 
studies  at  the  University,  but  here  —  as  a  lover  of 
excitement  —  he  fell  into  bad  company.  Alas!  he 
took  to  gambling,  and  frittered  away  all  of  his  ready 
money,  so  that  he  had  to  sell  his  books  in  order  to 
play.  The  profit  from  these  was  soon  gone.  He  was 
bankrupt  at  the  early  age  of  seventeen. 

Ashamed  to  go  home,  the  future  sea  rover  dis- 
appeared from  Padua  and  joined  a  fighting  band  of 
mercenaries  (paid  soldiersy  who  were  in  the  employ 
of  a  wealthy  Italian  Prince.  He  was  not  heard  of  for 
full  five  y^ars.     Thus,  his  relatives  gave  him  up  for 


CAELO   ZENO  7 

dead,  and,  when  —  one  day  —  he  suddenly  stalked 
into  the  house  of  his  parents,  his  brothers  and  sisters 
set  up  a  great  shout  of  wonder  and  amazement. 
"  Hurrah !  "  cried  they,  "  the  dead  has  returned  to  his 
own.  This  is  no  ghost,  for  he  speaks  our  own  native 
tongue.  Carlo  Zeno,  you  shall  be  given  the  best  that 
we  have,  for  we  believed  that  you  had  gone  to  another 
world." 

Pleased  and  overwhelmed  with  affection,  young 
Carlo  stayed  for  a  time  with  his  family,  and  then  — 
thinking  that,  as  he  had  been  trained  for  the  priest- 
hood, he  had  best  take  charge  of  his  canonry  of  Patras 
—  he  went  to  Greece. 

"  Hah !  my  fine  fellow,"  said  the  Governor,  when 
he  first  saw  him,  "  I  hear  that  you  are  fond  of  fighting. 
It  is  well.  The  Turks  are  very  troublesome,  just  now, 
and  they  need  some  stout  Venetian  blood  to  hold  them 
in  check.     You  must  assist  us." 

"  I'll  do  my  best,"  cried  Zeno  with  spirit,  and,  he 
had  not  been  there  a  week  before  the  Ottomans 
swooped  down  upon  the  city,  bent  upon  its  demolition. 
The  young  Venetian  sallied  forth  —  with  numerous 
fighting  men  —  to  meet  them,  and,  in  the  first  clash  of 
arms,  received  such  a  gaping  wound  that  he  was  given 
up  for  dead.  In  fact,  when  carried  to  the  city,  he  was 
considered  to  be  without  life,  was  stretched  upon  a 
long  settee,  was  clothed  in  a  white  sheet,  and  prepared 
for  interment.  But  in  the  early  morning  he  suddenly 
opened  his  eyes,  gazed  wonderingly  at  the  white  shroud 
which  covered  him,  and  cried,  with  no  ill  humor, 

"  Not  yet,  my  friends.     Carlo  Zeno  will  disappoint 


8         FAMOUS  PRIVATEEKSMEN 

all  your  fondest  hopess.  Once  more  I  am  of  the 
world." 

And,  so  saying,  he  scrambled  to  his  feet,  much  to 
the  dismay  of  the  sorrowing  Venetians,  who  had  been 
carefully  spreading  a  number  of  flowers  upon  the 
prostrate  form  of  the  supposedly  dead  warrior. 

But  so  weak  was  the  youthful  hero  that  he  had  to 
be  taken  to  Venice  in  order  to  recover.  When  strong 
again  he  resumed  his  studies  for  the  ministry  and  was 
sent  to  Patras,  a  city  that  was  soon  threatened  by 
an  army  of  twelve  thousand  Cypriotes  and  French- 
men. 

"  Here,  Zeno,"  cried  the  Bishop  of  Patras  to  the 
virile  young  stripling.  "  We  have  seven  hundred 
riders  in  our  city.  With  this  mere  handful,  you  must 
defend  us  against  our  enemies.  The  odds  are  fifteen 
to  one  against  you.  But  you  must  struggle  valiantly 
to  save  our  beautiful  capital." 

"  Aye !  Sire !  "  cried  the  youthful  student  of  church 
history.  "  I  shall  do  my  best  to  free  your  capital  from 
these  invaders.  May  the  God  of  Hosts  be  with  us! 
My  men  salute  you." 

So  saying  the  valiant  youth  led  his  small  and  ill 
drilled  company  against  the  besiegers,  and,  so  greatly 
did  he  harass  his  adversaries,  that  they  abandoned  the 
enterprise,  at  the  end  of  six  months ;  made  peace ;  and 
retired. 

"  Hail  to  Zeno!  "  cried  many  of  the  soldiers.  "  He 
is  a  leader  well  worth  our  respect.  Without  him  the 
great  city  would  have  surely  fallen.  Yea!  Hail  to 
young  Zeno." 


CAULO   ZENO  9 

These  words  of  praise  reached  the  ears  of  a  certain 
Greek  Knight  named  Simon,  and  so  roused  his  envy, 
that  he  audaciously  accused  Carlo  of  treachery,  which 
was  soon  told  to  the  hot-headed  young  warrior.  He 
acted  as  one  would  well  expect  of  him. 

*'  I  challenge  you  to  single  combat,"  cried  he.  "  The 
duel  shall  be  fought  in  Naples  under  the  eye  of  Queen 
Johanna." 

In  vain  Carlo's  friends  besought  him  to  forgive  the 
loose-tongued  Simon  —  his  patron,  the  Bishop,  ex- 
hausted his  eloquence  in  the  endeavor  to  reconcile  the 
two.  The  hot  blood  of  youth  would  out.  It  was  fight 
and  no  compromise.  But  before  the  trial,  the  bold  and 
unyielding  soldier  threw  up  his  position  with  the 
Church  and  married  a  rich  and  noble  lady  of  Clarenta, 
whose  fortune  well  supplanted  the  large  income  which 
he  had  forfeited  by  his  resignation. 

Now  honor  called  for  deeds.  Almost  immediately 
he  was  obliged  to  leave  for  Naples  in  order  to  meet  the 
detractor  of  his  valor,  and,  to  his  surprise,  the  Queen 
spoke  lightly  of  the  quarrel.  "  It  is  a  question  of  law," 
said  she.  "  An  inquiry  shall  be  had.  There  must  be 
no  bloodshed." 

An  inquiry  was  therefore  in  order,  and  it  was  a 
thorough  one.  "  Simon  is  in  the  wrong,"  said  the 
fellow  acting  as  clerk  for  those  sitting  upon  the  case. 
*'  He  must  pay  all  the  expenses  to  which  Zeno  has 
been  put,  and  there  shall  be  no  duel." 

"  My  honor  has  been  cleared,"  cried  Zeno.  **  I  must 
return  to  Greece."  There  —  strange  as  it  might  seem 
—  he  was  at  once  named  Governor  of  a  province, 


la       FAMOUS   PRIVATEERSMEN 

though  not  yet  twenty-three.  Events  were  going  well 
with  him.  But  his  wife  died,  he  was  cheated  of  his 
dowry  by  her  relations,  and  so  he  turned  once  more  to 
Venice,  —  saddened,  older  and  nearly  penniless.  The 
wheel  of  fortune  had  turned  badly  for  this  leader  of 
fighting  men  and  future  general  of  white-winged 
galleons  of  the  sea. 

But  now  there  was  a  really  good  fight  —  such  a 
fight  as  all  true  sailors  love  —  a  fight  which  tested  the 
grit  and  courage  of  Zeno  to  the  full.  It  was  the  first 
of  those  heroic  deeds  of  arms  which  shed  undying 
lustre  on  his  name,  and  marked  him  as  a  seaman  of 
the  first  rank,  —  a  captain  of  true  courage,  resources 
and  ambition. 

The  Genoese  (or  inhabitants  of  Genoa)  and  the 
Venetians,  were  continually  at  war  in  these  days,  and 
when  —  in  patriotic  zeal  —  Carlo  Zeno  seized  the 
island  of  Tenedos,  the  Venetian  Senate,  fearing  lest 
the  Genoese  would  seek  to  recover  the  lost  possession, 
sent  a  fleet  of  fifteen  ships  to  guard  it,  under  one  Pietro 
Mocenigo.  There  were  also  two  other  vessels,  one 
commanded  by  Carlo  Zeno  himself.  The  mass  of 
galleys  floated  on  to  Constantinople,  for  the  Greeks 
had  allied  themselves  with  the  Genoese,  had  seized  a 
Venetian  man-of-war,  which  had  been  captured,  and 
had  then  retired.  Three  lumbering  hulks  were  left  to 
protect  the  fair  isle  of  Tenedos,  —  under  Zeno,  the 
warlike  Venetian. 

"  Aha,"  said  a  Genoese  seaman.  "  There  are  but 
three  galleys  left  to  save  our  isle  of  Tenedos.  We 
shall  soon  take  it  with  our  superior  force.     Forward, 


CAELO   ZENO  11 

O  sailors!  We'll  have  revenge  for  the  attack  of  the 
v^ild  men  from  Venice." 

"  On !  on !  "  cried  the  Genoese  seamen,  and  w^ith- 
out  further  ado,  twenty-tv^o  galleys  careened  forward, 
their  white  sails  bellying  in  the  wind,  their  hawsers 
groaning,  spars  creaking,  and  sailors  chattering  like 
magpies  on  a  May  morning. 

Carlo  Zeno  had  only  three  hundred  regular  soldiers 
and  a  few  archers,  but  he  occupied  the  suburbs  of  the 
town  and  waited  for  the  attackers  to  land.  This  they 
did  in  goodly  numbers,  for  the  sea  was  calm  and  mo- 
tionless, although  it  was  the  month  of  November. 

"  Men !  "  cried  the  intrepid  Zeno,  "  you  are  few. 
The  enemy  are  as  numerous  as  blades  of  grass.  Do 
your  duty!  Fight  like  Trojans,  and,  if  you  win,  your 
grateful  countrymen  will  treat  you  as  heroes  should  be 
respected.  Never  say  die,  and  let  every  arrow  find  an 
opening  in  the  armor  of  the  enemy." 

The  Genoese  came  on  with  shouts  of  expectancy, 
but  they  were  met  with  a  far  warmer  reception  than 
they  had  anticipated.  The  air  was  filled  with  flying 
arrows,  as,  crouching  low  behind  quickly  constructed 
redoubts,  the  followers  of  the  stout-souled  Zeno  busily 
stretched  their  bowstrings,  and  shot  their  feathered 
barbs  into  the  mass  of  crowding  seamen.  Savage 
shouts  and  hoarse  cries  of  anguish,  rose  from  both 
attackers  and  attacked,  while  the  voice  of  Zeno,  shrilled 
high  above  the  battle's  din,  crying :  "  Shoot  carefully, 
my  men,  do  not  let  them  defeat  us,  for  the  eyes  of 
Venice  are  upon  you."  So  they  struggled  and  bled, 
until  the  shadows  began  to  fall,  when  —  realizing  that 


12        FAMOUS   PRIVATEERSMEN 

they  were  unable  to  take  the  courageous  Venetians  — 
the  Genoese  withdrew  to  their  ships. 

There  was  laughter  and  song  around  the  camp  fires 
of  Zeno's  little  band,  that  night,  but  their  leader  spoke 
critically  of  the  morrow. 

'*  Sleep  well,  my  men,"  said  he,  "  for  I  know  that 
our  foes  are  well  angered  at  the  beating  we  have  given 
them.  Next  morn  we  shall  again  be  at  war.  Let  us 
keep  our  courage  and  have  as  a  battle  cry,  *  Venice ! 
No  retreat  and  no  quarter ! '  " 

When  morning  dawned  the  Genoese  were  seen  to 
land  engines  of  war,  with  the  apparent  intention  of 
laying  siege  to  the  town.  Their  preparations  showed 
that  they  meant  to  attack  upon  the  side  farthest  from 
the  castle,  so  Carlo  Zeno  —  the  quick-witted  —  placed 
a  number  of  his  men  in  ambush,  among  a  collection  of 
half-ruined  and  empty  houses  which  stood  in  that 
quarter.  "  Stay  here,  my  men,"  said  he,  *'  and  when 
the  enemy  has  advanced,  charge  them  with  fury.  We 
must  win  to-day,  or  we  will  be  disgraced." 

Meanwhile  the  rest  of  the  Venetians  had  retreated 
inland,  and,  crouching  low  behind  a  screen  of  brush, 
waited  patiently  for  the  Genoese  to  come  up.  "  Be 
cautious,"  cried  Zeno,  "  and  when  the  enemy  is  within 
striking  distance,  charge  with  all  the  fury  which  you 
possess." 

"Aye!  Aye!  Good  master,"  cried  the  stubborn 
soldiers.     "  We  mark  well  what  you  tell  us." 

Not  long  afterwards  the  attacking  party  came  in 
view,  and,  without  suspecting  what  lay  in  front,  ad- 
vanced with  quick  gait  towards  the  supposedly  de- 


CARLO   ZENO  13 

fenseless  town.  But  suddenly,  with  a  wild  yell,  the 
followers  of  Zeno  leaped  from  behind  the  screening 
bushes,  and  dashed  towards  them.  At  the  same  in- 
stant, the  soldiers  who  had  been  placed  in  hiding,  at- 
tacked suddenly  from  the  rear.  Arrows  poured  into 
the  ranks  of  the  Genoese,  and  they  fell  like  wheat  be- 
fore the  scythe  of  the  reaper.  Hoarse  shouts,  groans, 
and  cries  of  victory  and  death,  welled  above  the  bat- 
tle's din. 

In  the  midst  of  this  affair  Carlo  Zeno  gave  a  cry  of 
pain.  An  arrow  (poisoned  'tis  said)  had  entered  his 
leg  and  struck  him  to  the  ground.  But,  nothing 
daunted,  he  rose  to  cry  shrilly  to  his  men,  "  On!  On! 
Drive  them  to  the  ocean."  And,  so  well  did  his  sol- 
diers follow  these  commands,  that  the  Genoese  fled  in 
confusion  and  disorder  to  their  ships.  The  day  was 
won. 

As  was  natural,  Zeno  paid  no  attention  to  his  wound, 
and,  when  the  enemy  hurried  to  shore  the  next  day 
for  another  attack,  they  were  greeted  with  such  a  ter- 
rific discharge  of  artillery  that  they  gave  up  their  idea 
of  capturing  the  island  and  sailed  away  amidst  cries  of 
derision  from  the  delighted  Venetians. 

''  Hurrah !  "  cried  they.  "  Hurrah  for  Zeno !  "  But 
so  exhausted  was  the  intrepid  leader  by  reason  of  his 
wound  that  he  fell  into  a  spasm  as  if  about  to  die.  His 
iron  constitution  pulled  him  through,  however,  and 
soon  he  and  the  faithful  band  returned  to  Venice, 
covered  with  glory,  and  full  satisfied  with  their  hard 
won  victory. 

The  daring  Zeno  was  well  deserving  of  praise,  for 


14        FAMOUS   PEIVATEERSMEN 

he  had  beaten  a  fleet  and  an  army  by  sheer  genius,  with 
three  ships  and  a  handful  of  men.  To  Venice  had 
been  preserved  the  valuable  island  which  guards  the 
entrance  to  the  Dardanelles,  and  to  her  it  was  to  remain 
for  years,  although  the  Genoese  tried  many  times  and 
oft  to  wrest  it  from  her  grasp. 

Now  came  another  struggle  —  the  war  of  Chioggia 
—  a  struggle  in  which  Carlo  Zeno  played  a  great  and 
noble  part,  —  a  part,  in  fact,  that  has  made  his  name 
a  byword  among  the  grateful  Venetians :  a  part  in 
which  he  displayed  a  leadership  quite  equal  to  that  of 
a  Drake,  or  a  Hawkins,  and  led  his  fighting  galleons 
with  all  the  courage  of  a  lion.  Hark,  then,  to  the 
story  of  this  unfortunate  affair!  Hark!  and  let  your 
sympathy  be  stirred  for  Carlo  Zeno,  the  indefatigable 
navigator  of  the  clumsy  shipping  of  the  Italian  pen- 
insula ! 

For  years  the  Republics  of  Genoa  and  Venice  re- 
mained at  peace,  but,  for  years  the  merchants  of  the 
two  countries  had  endeavored  to  outwit  each  other  in 
trade;  and,  thus,  when  the  Genoese  seized  several 
Venetian  ships  with  rich  cargoes,  in  1350,  and  refused 
to  give  them  up,  war  broke  out  between  the  rival 
Republics.  In  two  engagements  at  sea,  the  Venetians 
were  defeated ;  but  in  a  third  they  were  victorious,  and 
forever  sullied  the  banner  of  St.  Mark,  which  flew 
from  their  Admiral's  mast-head,  by  causing  nearly 
five  thousand  prisoners  of  war  to  be  drowned.  Fired 
by  a  desire  for  immediate  revenge  upon  their  foe,  the 
Genoese  hurried  a  mighty  fleet  to  sea,  and  ravaged  the 
Italian  coast  up  to  the  very  doors  of  Venice  itself. 


OAELO   ZENO  16 

Several  other  engagements  followed,  in  most  of  which 
the  Venetians  were  defeated;  and  then  there  were 
twenty  years  of  peace  before  another  conflict. 

Finally  war  broke  out  afresh.  Angry  and  vindictive, 
the  Genoese  bore  down  upon  the  Venetian  coast  in 
numerous  lumbering  galleys,  determined — this  time — 
to  reach  Venice  itself,  and  to  sack  this  rich  and  popu- 
lous city.  With  little  difficulty  they  captured  Chioggia, 
a  seaport,  a  populous  city  and  the  key  to  the  lagoons 
which  led  to  the  heart  of  the  capital.  They  advanced 
to  the  very  outskirts  of  Venice,  and  their  cries  of  joy- 
ous vindictiveness  sounded  strangely  near  to  the  now 
terrified  inhabitants,  who,  rallying  around  their  old 
generals  and  city  fathers,  were  determined  to  fight  to 
the  last  ditch. 

As  winter  came,  the  victoriously  aggressive  Genoese 
retreated  to  Chioggia,  withdrawing  their  fleet  into  the 
safe  harbor  to  await  the  spring;  leaving  only  two  or 
three  galleys  to  cruise  before  the  entrance,  in  case  the 
now  angered  Venetians  should  attack.  But  they  were 
to  be  rudely  awakened  from  their  fancied  seclusion. 

"  Lead  us  on,  O  Pisani,"  the  Venetians  had  cried  in 
the  broad  market  space  of  their  beloved  city.  **  We 
must  and  will  drive  these  invaders  into  their  own 
country.  Never  have  we  received  before  such  insults. 
On!   On!   to  Chioggia." 

So,  silent  and  vengeful,  the  Venetian  fleet  stole  out 
to  sea  on  the  evening  of  December  twenty-first.  There 
were  thirty- four  galleys,  sixty  smaller  armed  vessels, 
and  hundreds  of  flat-bottomed  boats.  Pisani  was  in 
the  rear,  towing  two  heavy,  old  hulks,  laden  with 


16       FAMOUS   PEIVATEERSMEN 

stones,  to  sink  in  the  entrance  of  the  harbor  and  bottle 
up  the  fleet,  even  as  the  Americans  were  to  sink  the 
Merrimac  in  the  Harbor  of  Santiago,  many  years 
afterwards. 

The  Genoese  were  unready.  The  cruisers,  on  duty  as 
sentinels,  were  not  where  they  should  have  been,  and 
so  the  gallant  Pisani  scuttled  the  hulks  across  the  har- 
bor entrance  and  caught  the  bold  marauders  like  rats 
in  a  trap.  The  fleet  of  the  enemy  was  paralyzed,  par- 
ticularly as  another  river's  mouth,  some  two  miles 
southward,  was  also  blockaded.  Smiles  of  satisfaction 
shone  upon  the  faces  of  the  outraged  Venetians. 

Carlo  Zeno  was  hurrying  up  with  a  strong  fleet 
manned  by  veteran  seamen,  but  the  now  victorious 
followers  of  Pisani  wished  to  return  to  Venice. 

"  It  is  the  Christmas  season,"  cried  many.  "  We 
have  fought  like  lions.  We  have  shut  up  our  enemy. 
We  have  averted  the  extreme  danger.  Let  us  return 
to  our  wives  and  our  children !  " 

'*  You  cannot  go,"  said  Pisani,  sternly.  "  You  are 
the  entire  male  population  of  Venice.  Without  you  the 
great  expedition  will  come  to  naught,  and  all  of  our 
toil  will  have  been  thrown  away.  Only  be  calm. 
Carlo  Zeno  will  soon  be  here,  and  w^e  can  then  take 
Chioggia ! " 

Alas!  Like  Columbus,  he  saw  himself  upon  the 
verge  of  losing  the  result  of  all  his  labor  for  lack  of 
confidence  in  him  upon  the  part  of  his  men.  He  could 
not  keep  them  by  force,  so  wearily  and  anxiously  he 
scanned  the  horizon  for  signs  of  an  approaching  sail. 

The  days  went  slowly  by  for  the  lion-hearted  Pisani. 


CARLO   ZENO  17 

Carlo  Zeno  did  not  come.  Day  after  day  the  valiant 
leader  fearfully  looked  for  the  white-winged  canvas 
of  a  Venetian  galleon,  but  none  came  to  view.  On  the 
thirtieth  day  of  December  his  men  were  very  muti- 
nous. 

"  We  will  seize  the  ships  and  return  to-morrow  to 
Venice,"  cried  several.  "  We  have  had  enough  of 
war.     Our  wives  and  daughters  cry  to  us  to  return." 

Pisani  was  desperate. 

"If  Carlo  Zeno  does  not  come  in  forty-eight  hours, 
the  fleet  may  return  to  Lido,"  said  he.  "  Meanwhile, 
keep  your  guns  shooting  at  the  enemy.  We  must 
make  these  Genoese  feel  that  we  shall  soon  attack  in 
force." 

But  Pisani's  heart  was  leaden.  Where,  yes,  where 
was  Zeno  ?  New  Year's  Day  came,  and,  by  his  prom- 
ise, he  must  let  the  Venetians  go.  What  did  this 
mean  for  him?  It  meant  the  fall  of  Venice,  the  end 
of  the  Republic,  the  destruction  of  the  population  with 
all  that  they  possessed.  He  —  their  idol,  their  leader 
for  ten  days  —  could  no  longer  lead,  for  the  Vene- 
tians could  not  bear  a  little  cold  and  hardship  for  his 
sake.  Sad  —  yes,  sad,  indeed  —  was  the  face  of  the 
stout  seaman  as  he  gave  one  last  despairing  glance  at 
the  horizon. 

Ha!  What  was  that?  A  thin,  white  mark  against 
the  distant  blue !  It  grew  larger  and  clearer.  It  was 
the  sail  of  a  galley.  Another,  and  another,  and  an- 
other hove  in  sight,  —  eighteen  in  all,  and  driving 
along  swiftly  before  a  heavy  wind.  But,  were  they 
hostile,  or  friendly?     That  was  the  question.     Was 


18        FAMOUS   PRIVATEERSMEN 

it  Zeno,  or  were  these  more  galleons  of  the  Genoese? 
Then,  joy  shone  in  the  keen  eyes  of  Pisani,  for  the 
banner  of  St.  Mark  fluttered  from  the  peak  of  the 
foremost  ship,  and  floated  fair  upon  the  morning 
breeze.  Hurrah!  It  was  Carlo  Zeno,  the  lion- 
hearted. 

God  speed  brave  Zeno!  He  had  been  twice 
wounded  in  fights  along  the  coast,  en  route,  but  noth- 
ing could  diminish  his  energy,  or  dampen  his  ardor. 
He  had  laid  waste  the  Genoese  coast;  he  had  inter- 
cepted convoys  of  grain ;  he  had  harassed  the  enemy's 
commerce  in  the  East,  and  he  had  captured  a  huge 
vessel  of  theirs  with  five  hundred  thousand  pieces  of 
gold.  Marvellous  Zeno!  Brave,  courageous  Vene- 
tian sea-dog,  you  are  just  in  the  nick  of  time ! 

"  Thanks  be  to  Heaven  that  you  have  come,"  cried 
Pisani,  tears  welling  to  his  eyes.  "  Now  we  will  go 
in  and  take  Chioggia.  It  means  the  end  of  the  war 
for  us.     Again,  I  say,  thanks  be  to  Heaven." 

With  renewed  hope  and  confidence  the  Venetians 
now  pushed  the  siege.  Seeing  that  their  fleet  could 
never  escape,  the  Genoese  started  to  dig  a  canal  to  the 
open  sea,  by  which  the  boats  could  be  brought  off 
during  the  night.  The  work  was  begun,  but  Carlo 
Zeno  discovered  it  in  time.  Volunteers  were  called 
for,  a  force  was  soon  landed,  and,  under  the  leader- 
ship of  Zeno,  marched  to  intercept  the  diggers  of  this, 
the  only  means  of  escape. 

"  The  Venetians  are  going  towards  *  Little 
Chioggia,'  "  cried  many  of  the  Genoese.  "  We  must 
hasten  there  to  stop  them." 


CAELO   ZENO  ig 

But  Zeno  had  only  made  a  feint  in  this  direction. 
Throwing  his  main  force  in  the  rear  of  the  Genoese, 
he  soon  began  to  cut  them  up  badly.  They  were 
seized  with  a  panic.  They  fled  towards  the  bridge  of 
Chioggia,  trampling  upon  each  other  as  they  ran,  pur- 
sued and  slashed  to  ribbons  by  Zeno's  men.  The 
bridge  broke  beneath  the  weight  of  the  fugitives  and 
hundreds  were  drowned  in  the  canal,  while  thousands 
perished  near  the  head  of  this  fateful  causeway.  It 
was  a  great  and  signal  victory  for  Zeno;  the  intrepid 
sea-dog  and  campaigner  on  land. 

This  was  a  death  blow.  That  night  some  of  the 
garrison  hastened  to  desert,  and,  as  the  siege  pro- 
gressed, the  drinking  water  began  to  fail,  the  food 
gave  out,  and  starvation  stared  the  holders  of  Chioggia 
in  the  face.  On  the  twenty-fourth  of  June  the  city 
surrendered;  and  four  thousand  one  hundred  and 
seventy  Genoese,  with  two  hundred  Paduans  — 
ghastly  and  emaciated  —  more  like  moving  corpses 
than  living  beings  —  marched  out  to  lay  down  their 
arms.  Seventeen  galleys,  also,  were  handed  over  to 
the  Venetians :  the  war-worn  relics  of  the  once  power- 
ful fleet  which  had  menaced  Venice  itself. 

As  a  feat  of  generalship,  Pisani's  blockade  of  the 
Genoese  fleet  is  rivalled  by  Sampson's  blockade  of 
Cervera's  squadron  at  Santiago  in  1898,  and  the  mili- 
tary operation  by  which  Carlo  Zeno  tempted  the  gar- 
rison of  Brondolo  into  the  trap  which  he  had  set  for 
them,  and  drove  them,  like  a  flock  of  sheep  into 
Chioggia,  by  sunset,  is  surely  a  splendid  feat  of  arms. 
All  honor  to  this  intrepid  sea-dog  of  old  Venice ! 


20        FAMOUS   PRIVATEERSMEN 

How  fickle  is  Dame  Fortune!  Jealous  of  the  repu- 
tation of  this  noble  Venetian,  the  patricians,  whose 
advice,  during  the  war,  he  had  consistently  declined  to 
follow;  refused  to  make  him  a  Doge  of  the  City.  It 
was  thought  that  the  election  of  the  bravest  captain  of 
the  day  might  be  dangerous  to  the  Republic.  Instead 
of  doing  him  honor,  they  imprisoned  him;  and  was 
he  not  the  noblest  patriot  of  them  all? 

When  over  seventy  years  of  age,  —  the  greatest  and 
truest  Venetian  —  loaned  a  small  sum  of  money  to 
the  Prince  Carrara,  once  a  power  in  Venetian  politics. 
He  had  saved  his  country  from  destruction.  He  had 
served  her  with  the  most  perfect  integrity.  Yet,  he 
reaped  the  reward  which  fell  to  the  share  of  nearly 
every  distinguished  Venetian;  he  was  feared  by  the 
government;  hated  by  the  nobles  whom  he  had  out- 
stripped in  honor,  and  was  condemned  to  prison  by 
men  who  were  not  worthy  to  loose  the  latchet  of  his 
shoes.  Although  he  had  often  paid  the  mercenary  sol- 
diers to  fight  for  Venice,  in  the  War  of  Chioggia,  from 
his  own  pocket,  he  was  sent  to  jail  for  loaning  money 
to  an  unfortunate  political  refugee. 

When  called  before  the  Council  of  Ten  on  the  night 
of  the  twentieth  of  January,  1406,  the  warrant  for  his 
examination  authorized  the  use  of  torture.  But  even 
the  Ten  hesitated  at  this. 

"  He  is  a  brave  man,"  said  one.  "  Pray  allow  him 
to  go  untouched." 

The  prisoner  admitted  that  he  had  loaned  the  money. 
His  explanation  was  both  honorable  and  clear.  But 
the  Ten  were  obdurate  that  night. 


CAELO    ZENO  21 

"  He  shall  go  to  the  Pozzi  prison  for  a  year,"  said 
they.  "  Besides  this,  he  shall  suffer  the  perpetual  loss 
of  all  offices  which  he  has  held." 

Like  a  brave  man,  Carlo  Zeno  accepted  the  sentence 
without  a  murmur,  and  his  sturdy  frame  did  not  suffer 
from  the  confinement.  For  twelve  years  longer  he 
lived  in  perfect  health;  made  a  pilgrimage  to  Jeru- 
salem; commanded  the  troops  of  the  Republic  once 
again ;  defeated  the  Cypriotes,  and  died  peacefully,  — 
a  warrior  with  a  name  of  undiminished  lustre,  most 
foully  tarnished  by  his  own  compatriots.  His  is  a 
reputation  of  undying  glory,  that  of  his  judges  is 
that  of  eternal  shame.  All  honor  to  Carlo  Zeno,  the 
valorous  Venetian,  who  could  fight  a  ship  as  well  as  a 
squadron  of  foot  soldiers  on  land !    Salve,  Venetia! 

"Dip  the  banner  of  St.  Mark, 
Dip  —  and  let  the  lions  roar. 
Zeno's  soul  has  gone  above, 
Bow  —  a  warrior's  life  is  o'er." 


HARKEE,   BOYS! 

Harkee,  Boys!    I'll  tell  you  of  the  torrid,  Spanish  Main, 
Where  the  tarpons  leap  and  tumble  in  the  silvery  ocean  plain, 
Where  the  wheeling  condors  circle;    where  the  long-nosed  ant- 
bears  sniff 
At  the  food  the  Jackie  "caches"  in  the  Aztec  warrior's  cliff. 

Oh!  Hurray  for  the  deck  of  a  galleon  stout. 
Hurray  for  the  life  on  the  sea, 
Hurray!   for  the  cutlass;   the  dirk;   an'  th'  pike; 
Wild  rovers  we  will  be. 

Harkee,  Boys!    I'll  tell  you  of  the  men  of  Morgan's  band, 
Of  Drake  and  England  —  rascals  —  in  the  palm-tree,  tropic  land. 
I'll  tell  you  of  bold  Hawkins,  how  he  sailed  around  the  Horn. 
And  the  Manatees  went  chuck!   chuck!  chuck!  in  the  sun-baked, 
lazy  morn. 

Oh!  Hurray  for  the  deck  of  a  galleon  stout. 
Hurray  for  the  life  on  the  sea, 
Hurray!   for  the  cutlass;  the  dirk;   an'  th'  pike; 
Wild  rovers  we  will  he. 

Harkee,  Boys!    You're  English,  and  you  come  of  roving  blood, 

Now,  when  you're  three  years  older,  you  must  don  a  sea-man's 
hood. 

You  must  turn  your  good  ship  westward,  —  you  must  plough 
towards  the  land 

Where  the  mule-train  bells  go  tink!  tink!  tink!  and  the  bend- 
ing cocoas  stand. 

Oh!    You  will  be  off  on  a  galleon  stout, 

Oh!   You  will  be  men  of  the  sea, 

Hurray!   for  the  cutlass;   the  dirk;   an'  th*  pike; 

Wild  rovers  you  will  he. 


SIR  FRANCIS   DRAKE 
ROVER  AND    SEA  RANGER 

(1540 -1596) 


*The  man  who  frets  at  worldly  strife 
Grows  sallow,  sour,  and  thin; 
Give  us  the  lad  whose  happy  life 
Is  one  perpetual  grin: 
He,  Midas-like,  turns  all  to  gold, — 
He  smiles,  when  others  sigh, 
Enjoys  alike  the  hot  and  cold, 
And  laughs  through  wet  and  dry." 

—  Drake. 


SIR  FRANCIS  DRAKE 

ROVER  AND  SEA  RANGER 
(1540-1596) 

Sing  a  song  of  stout  dubloons, 

Of  gold  and  jingling  brass, 

A  song  of  Spanish  galleons, 

Foul-bottomed  as  they  pass. 

Of  roaring  blades  and  stumbling  mules, 

Of  casks  of  malmsey,  wine, 

Of  red,  rip-roaring  ruffians, 

In  a  thin,  meandering  line. 

They're  with  Drake,  Drake,  Drake, 

He  can  make  the  sword  hilt's  shake, 

He's  a  rattling,  battling  Captain  of  the  Main. 

You  can  see  the  Spaniards  shiver, 

As  he  nears  their  shelt'ring  river. 

While  his  eyelids  never  quiver 

At  the  slain. 

So, — 

Here's  to  Drake,  Drake,  Drake, 

Come  —  make  the  welkin  shake. 

And  raise  your  frothing  glasses  up  on  high. 

If  you  love  a  man  and  devil, 

Who  can  treat  you  on  the  level. 

Then,  clink  your  goblet's  bevel, 

To  Captain  Drake. 

"  T   ■    lAKE    care,    boy,    you    will    fall    overboard. 

I       Take  care  and  do  not  play  with  your  brother 

near   the   edge   of   our  good   ship,    for   the 

water  here  is  deep,  and  I  know  that  you  can  swim 

but  ill." 

25 


26        FAMOUS   PRIVATEERSMEN 

The  man  who  spoke  was  a  rough,  grizzled  sea-dog, 
clad  in  an  old  jersey  and  tarpaulins.  He  stood  upon 
the  deck  of  an  aged,  dismantled  war-ship,  which  — 
anchored  in  the  shallow  water  near  Chatham,  Eng- 
land, —  swung  to  and  fro  in  the  eddying  currents. 
Around  him,  upon  the  unwashed  deck,  scampered  a 
swarm  of  little  children,  twelve  in  all,  and  all  of  them 
his  own. 

''  Very  good,  Father,"  spoke  the  curly-haired 
youngster.  "  I'll  mind  what  you  tell  me.  You're 
wrong,  though,  when  you  say  that  I  cannot  swim,  for 
I  can,  even  to  yonder  shore.  Do  you  want  to  see  me 
do  it?" 

*'  Nay,  nay,"  chuckled  the  stout  seaman.  "  You're 
a  boy  of  courage,  Francis.  That  I  can  well  see.  But 
do  not  try  the  water.  It  is  cold  and  you  will  have 
a  cramp  and  go  under.  Stick  to  the  quarter-deck." 
And  laughing  softly  to  himself,  he  went  below,  where 
a  strong  smell  of  cooking  showed  that  there  was  some- 
thing upon  the  galley  stove  to  feed  his  hungry  crew 
of  youthful  Englishmen. 

It  was  surely  a  strange  house  to  bring  up  a  troop 
of  merry  children  in.  The  sound  of  wind  and  waves 
was  familiar  to  them  at  night  and  they  grew  to  be 
strong  and  fearless.  But  is  not  this  the  proper  way 
to  rear  a  sea-dog? 

These  little  ducklings,  descended  from  a  Drake, 
must  have  early  set  their  hearts  upon  adventure  and 
a  seafaring  life.  In  fact,  one  of  them,  young  Francis, 
was  to  be  one  of  the  best  known  seamen  of  the  cen- 
turies and  knighted  for  his  services  to  the  Crown, 


SIR   FRANCIS   DRAKE  27 

Reared  in  a  ship,  he,  by  nature,  loved  the  sea  as  only 
a  child  of  the  ocean  could  have  done.  The  brine  ran 
in  his  blood. 

Being  the  son  of  a  poor  man,  he  was  apprenticed 
to  a  master  of  a  small  vessel  which  used  to  coast  along 
the  shore  and  carry  merchandise  to  France  and  the 
Netherlands.  He  learned  his  business  well.  So  well, 
indeed,  that  at  the  death  of  the  master  of  the 
vessel  it  was  bequeathed  ''  to  Francis  Drake,  because 
he  was  diligent  and  painstaking  and  pleased  the 
old  man,  his  master,  by  his  industry."  But  the 
gallant,  young  sea-dog  grew  weary  of  the  tiny 
barque. 

"  It  only  creeps  along  the  shore,"  he  said.  "  I  want 
to  get  out  upon  the  ocean  and  see  the  world.  I  will 
therefore  enlist  with  my  stout  kinsmen,  the  Hawkins 
brothers,  rich  merchants  both,  who  build  and  sail  their 
own  ships." 

This  he  did,  and  thus  began  the  roving  life  of 
Francis  Drake:  dare-devil  and  scourge  of  the  West 
Indian  waters. 

About  fifty  years  before  this  lusty  mariner  had  been 
born,  America  was  discovered  by  Christopher  Colum- 
bus —  an  Italian  sailor  in  the  service  of  Spain  —  and 
this  powerful  country  had  seized  a  great  part  of  the 
new  found  land.  There  was  no  love  lost  between  the 
Spaniards  and  the  men  from  the  cold,  northern  British 
Isles  and  thus  Francis  Drake  spent  his  entire  career 
battling  with  the  black-haired,  rapacious,  and  avari- 
cious adventurers  who  flew  the  banner  of  King  Philip 
of  Arragon.    Sometimes  he  was  defeated,  more  often 


28        FAMOUS   PRIVATEERSMEN 

he  was  successful.  Hark,  then,  to  the  tale  of  his  many 
desperate  encounters  upon  the  wide  waters  of  the 
surging  Atlantic. 

Drake  had  said,  "  I'm  going  to  sea  with  the  Haw- 
kins and  view  the  world,"  and,  as  John  Hawkins  was 
just  about  to  sail  for  the  West  Indies  in  six  ships,  the 
youthful  and  eager  mariner  was  given  an  opportunity 
to  command  a  vessel  called  the  Judith.  The  fleet  at 
first  had  good  success.  Slaves  were  captured  upon  the 
African  coast  and  were  sold  in  the  West  Indies, 
though  with  difficulty,  because  the  Spaniards  had  been 
forbidden  by  their  king  to  trade  with  the  English. 
Laden  with  treasure  and  spices,  the  ships  were  about 
to  start  for  home,  when  fearful  storms  beset  them. 
Their  beams  were  badly  shattered. 

"  We  must  seek  a  haven,"  cried  Hawkins.  "  Ready 
about  and  steer  for  Vera  Cruz,  the  port  of  the  City 
of  Mexico!  There  we  can  buy  food  and  repair  our 
fle6t!" 

"  'Tis  well,"  cried  his  men,  and,  aiming  for  the 
sheltering  harbor,  they  soon  ploughed  into  the  smooth 
water  of  the  bay.  But  there  was  consternation  among 
the  Spaniards  of  the  town. 

"  We  have  treasure  here,"  they  whispered  to  each 
other.  "  See,  those  English  dogs  have  come  to  rob 
us !  We  must  fight,  brothers,  and  fight  hard  to  keep 
the  cruel  Islanders  away."  And  they  oiled  their  pis- 
tols and  sharpened  their  cutlasses  upon  their  grind- 
stones. 

But  luck  was  with  the  inhabitants  of  Vera  Cruz. 
Next  morning  thirteen  careening  galleys  swept  into 


SIR   FRANCIS    DRAKE. 


SIR   FRANCIS   DRAKE  29 

the  quiet  waters  of  the  bay  and  joy  shone  in  the  black 
eyes  of  the  Spaniards. 

''  It  is  a  Mexican  fleet,"  cried  they.  "  It  returns 
with  a  new  Viceroy  or  Governor,  from  good  King 
Philip  of  Spain."    And  they  laughed  derisively. 

But  in  the  breasts  of  Drake  and  Hawkins  there  was 
doubt  and  suspicion. 

"  They  are  sure  to  attack  us,"  said  Hawkins,  mov- 
ing among  his  men.  "  Let  every  fellow  be  upon  his 
guard." 

The  Spanish  were  full  of  bowings  and  scrapings. 
They  protested  their  deep  friendship  for  the  English 
and  wished  to  be  moored  alongside. 

"  We  are  very  glad  to  see  you,  English  brothers," 
said  one.  "  We  welcome  you  to  the  traffic  and  trade 
of  the  far  East."  So  they  peacefully  dropped  anchor 
near  the  suspicious  men  of  England,  still  smiling,  sing- 
ing, and  cheerfully  waving  a  welcome  to  the  none- 
too-happy  sailors. 

"  Avast,"  cried  Francis  Drake,  "  and  sleep  on  your 
arms,  my  Hearties,  for  to-morrow  there'll  be  trouble, 
or  else  my  blood's  not  British."  He  was  but  a  young 
man,  yet  he  had  guessed  correctly. 

As  the  first  glimmer  of  day  shone  in  the  dim  hori- 
zon, a  shot  awoke  the  stillness  of  the  morn.  Another 
and  another  followed  in  rapid  succession.  Then 
boom!  a  cannon  roared,  and  a  great  iron  ball  buried 
itself  in  the  decking  of  the  Jesus;  the  flagship  of 
gallant  Hawkins. 

**  We're  attacked,"  cried  Drake.  "  Man  the  decks! 
Up  sails  and  steer  to  sea !    Fight  as  you  never  fought 


30       FAMOUS   PRIVATEERSMEN 

before!  Strike  and  strike  hard  for  dear  old  Eng- 
land!" 

But  his  warning  almost  came  too  late,  for  two 
Spanish  galleons  ranged  alongside  and  swung  grap- 
pling irons  into  his  rigging  in  order  to  close  with  the 
moving  vessel.  The  Englishmen  struck  at  them  with 
oars  and  handspikes,  knocking  the  tentacles  of  the 
on-coming  octopus  aside,  and,  with  sails  flying  and 
shots  rattling,  the  Judith  bore  towards  the  open  sea. 

The  fight  was  now  furious.  Two  of  the  English 
ships  were  sunk  and  the  Jesus,  Hawkins'  own  boat, 
was  so  badly  damaged  that  she  lay  apparently  helpless 
in  the  trough  of  the  surging  ocean. 

"  Back,  my  Hearties,"  cried  Drake,  "  and  we'll  see 
what  we  can  do  to  save  our  gallant  captain." 

So  back  they  sailed,  and,  firing  their  little  cannon 
with  rapidity,  soon  held  off  the  Spanish  ship  which 
threatened  Hawkins  himself  with  capture.  Some  of 
the  English  sailors  jumped  into  their  boats  and  rowed 
away,  some  gave  in  to  the  Spaniards,  and  some  fought 
relentlessly.     Thus  raged  the  battle  until  the  evening. 

As  night  fell,  Drake  ordered  the  Judith  to  put  to 
sea,  Hawkins  followed,  and  wandering  about  in  these 
unknown  parts,  with  little  water  and  a  scarcity  of 
food,  hunger  forced  the  weary  sailors  to  eat  hides, 
cats,  dogs,  mice,  rats,  parrots  and  monkeys. 

"  It  was  the  troublesome  voyage,"  wrote  Hawkins, 
and  such,  indeed,  it  had  proved  to  be.  Some  of  the 
sailors  asked  to  be  placed  on  land  rather  than  risk 
shipwreck  and  starvation  in  the  overcrowded  boat. 
Some  of  them  reached  England  after  years  of  suf- 


SIR   FRANCIS   DRAKE  31 

fering  and  weary  journeying  to  and  fro.  Some  were 
captured  by  the  Spaniards  and  were  put  to  death  as 
heretics.  A  few  were  sent  to  the  galleys  as  slaves. 
Others,  more  fortunate,  were  rowed  ashore  to  serve 
in  monasteries,  where  the  monks  made  kind  and  gentle 
masters. 

And  what  of  the  youthful  and  danger-loving 
Drake  ?  Five  days  before  the  wind-swept  Jesus  strug- 
gled into  Plymouth  harbor  with  Hawkins  and  a  fam- 
ine-driven crew,  Drake  and  his  own  adventurous  Eng- 
lishmen steered  the  little  Judith  to  the  rocky  headland 
which  hides  this  sheltering  refuge  from  the  fury  of 
the  sea. 

"  I  am  indeed  right  glad  to  reach  Merrie  England 
again,"  said  he,  "  for  we  have  had  a  rough  and  dan- 
gerous voyage.  The  Spaniards  are  treacherous  dogs. 
They  betrayed  us,  and  henceforth  I,  for  one,  shall 
show  them  no  quarter." 

So  saying  he  journeyed  to  London  to  see  the  good 
Queen  Elizabeth. 

"  It  is  impossible  for  me  to  wage  war  upon  Philip 
of  Spain,"  said  the  valiant  Mistress  of  England's  des- 
tinies, when  she  heard  his  story  of  loss  of  kinsmen, 
friends  and  goods  of  great  value.  "  I  have  a  poor 
country.  The  navy  of  my  fathers  has  been  ruined.  I 
have  no  proper  army  with  which  to  avenge  the  treach- 
ery of  Spain,  and  I  have  trouble  with  both  France 
and  Scotland.  If  you  would  have  revenge,  take  mat- 
ters into  your  own  hands." 

"  Philip  is  the  mightiest  monarch  in  the  world  to- 
day," answered  the  well-bronzed  mariner,  bowing  low. 


32        FAMOUS   PRIVATEERSMEN 

"  I  am  only  a  humble  seafarer  without  either  ships 
or  money,  but,  most  gracious  Majesty,  I  am  going 
to  help  myself  in  my  quarrel  with  the  King  of  Spain. 
From  henceforth  there  will  be  war  to  the  death  be- 
tween myself  and  the  men  of  the  south." 

The  good  Queen  smiled,  for  she  truly  loved  a  valiant 
man. 

"  May  God  be  with  you,"  said  she. 

It  was  not  long  before  the  danger-loving  mariner 
was  again  headed  for  the  West  Indies  and  the  Spanish 
Main,  with  a  crew  of  seventy-three  men  and  boys. 

"  We  believe  in  our  leader,"  said  one.  "  He  will 
take  us  on  to  fortune  and  to  fame."  And  this  was 
the  sentiment  of  all,  for  who  does  not  love  a  voyage 
after  gold  and  treasure  ? 

Ploughing  relentlessly  across  the  deep,  the  two  ships 
which  carried  these  roving  blades,  reached  the  palm- 
clad  West  Indies  in  twenty-five  days.  All  were  cheer- 
ful and  gay,  for  before  them  was  danger,  excitement, 
battle,  and  Spanish  gold.  "  Lead  on.  Captain  Drake," 
cried  one  of  the  men.  "  We  wish  to  land  at  Plymouth 
with  our  pockets  stuffed  with  Spanish  dubloons." 

"  I'll  take  you  to  the  seaport  of  Nombre  de  Dios," 
said  the  bluff  sea  ranger.  "  There  is  gold  and  silver 
in  this  spot,  and  by  the  hogshead.  Furthermore,"  he 
added  chuckling,  "  most  of  it  will  be  in  the  hold  of 
our  stout  ships,  the  Pascha  and  the  Swan,  before  an- 
other moon." 

So  the  sailors  were  drilled  in  attack  and  sword  play, 
while  arms  were  distributed,  which,  up  to  now,  had 
been  kept  "very  fair  and  safe  in  good  casks."     All 


SIE   FRANCIS   DRAKE  33 

were  in  a  cheerful  mood,  for  the  excitement  of  battle 
had  begun  to  stir  the  hot  blood  in  their  veins. 

Late  in  the  afternoon,  the  pinnaces  (which  had  been 
carried  on  deck)  were  launched,  and  climbing  aboard, 
the  men  of  Merrie  England  set  sail  for  the  Spanish 
town.  They  lay  under  the  shore,  out  of  sight,  until 
dark.  Then  they  rowed  with  muffled  oars  to  the 
shadows  of  the  precipitous  cliffs  which  here  jutted 
into  the  rolling  ocean,  and  quietly  awaited  the  dawn. 

At  three  in  the  morning,  while  the  silvery  l.'ght  of 
a  half  moon  was  just  reddened  with  the  first  flush  of 
dawn,  the  eager  buccaneers  landed  upon  the  sandy 
beach.  ''Hark!"  cried  a  youth,  *' We  are  already 
discovered." 

As  he  spoke,  the  noise  of  bells,  drums,  and  shout- 
ing, came  to  the  startled  ears  of  the  invaders. 

'*  Twelve  men  will  remain  behind  to  guard  the  pin- 
naces," cried  Drake.  ''  The  rest  must  follow  me  and 
fight  even  to  the  last  ditch.    Forward !  " 

Splitting  into  two  bands,  the  Englishmen  rushed 
through  the  narrow  streets  with  a  wild  cheer  ringing 
in  the  silent  air.  Drake's  brother  —  with  a  certain 
John  Oxenham  and  sixteen  others  —  hurried  around 
behind  the  King's  treasure-house,  and  entered  the 
eastern  side  of  the  market-place;  while  Drake,  him- 
self, marched  up  the  main  street  with  bugles  blowing, 
drums  rolling,  and  balls  of  lighted  tow  blazing  from 
the  end  of  long  pikes  carried  by  his  stout  retainers. 
The  townsfolk  were  terrified  with  the  din  and  blaze 
of  fire.  "  An  army  is  upon  us,"  cried  many.  "  We 
must  flee  for  our  lives." 


34        FAMOUS   PRIVATEERSMEN 

In  spite  of  this,  a  goodly  number  rallied  at  the 
market-place,  where  there  was  a  sharp  fight.  But 
nothing  could  withstand  the  onset  of  the  men  from 
the  fog-swept  island,  and  soon  the  Spaniards  fled, 
leaving  two  behind  who  had  been  captured  and  held. 

"  You  must  show  us  the  Governor's  house,"  cried 
Drake.    *'  All  the  treasure  is  there." 

The  two  captives  obeyed  unwillingly,  and  great  was 
the  disappointment  of  the  English  when  they  found 
only  bars  of  silver  in  the  spacious  mansion. 

"  On !  To  the  King's  treasure-house !  "  again 
shouted  the  bold  mariner.  "  There,  at  least,  must  be 
gold  and  jewels." 

In  fact  the  English  were  furious  with  disappoint- 
ment, for,  as  they  reached  the  Governor's  mansion 
(strongly  built  of  lime  and  stone  for  the  safe  keeping 
of  treasure)  the  eager  pillagers  rushed  through  the 
wide-open  doorway.  A  candle  stood  lighted  upon  the 
top  of  the  stairs.  Before  the  threshold  a  horse  stood 
champing  his  bit,  as  if  recently  saddled  for  the  Gov- 
ernor, himself,  while,  by  the  flickering  gleam  of  the 
taper,  a  huge  glittering  mass  of  silver  bars  was  seen 
piled  from  floor  to  ceiling.  That  was  all,  —  no  caskets 
of  gold  or  precious  stones  were  to  be  seen. 

"  Stand  to  your  weapons,  men ! "  cried  Drake. 
"  The  town  is  full  of  people.  Move  carefully  to  the 
King's  treasure-house  which  is  near  the  waterside. 
There  are  more  gold  and  jewels  in  that  spot  than  all 
our  pinnaces  can  carry." 

As  the  soldiers  hurried  where  he  led,  a  negro  called 
Diego,  rushed  panting  from  the  direction  of  the  shore. 


SIR   FRANCIS   DRAKE  35 

"  Marse  Drake!  Marse  Drake!  "  he  wailed.  "  De 
boats  am  surrounded  by  de  Spanish.  Dey  will  sholy 
be  captured  if  you  do  not  hurry  back.  Fo'  de  Lohd's 
sake,  Massa,  come  down  to  de  sho'." 

*'  My  brother  and  John  Oxenham  will  hasten  to  the 
shore,"  cried  Drake.  "  Meanwhile,  my  Hearties,  come 
batter  down  the  doorway  to  this  noble  mansion.  You 
are  at  the  mouth  of  the  greatest  treasure-chest  in  the 
world." 

As  the  valiant  captain  spoke  these  words,  he  stepped 
forward  to  deal  a  blow,  himself,  at  the  stout  door 
which  shut  him  from  the  glittering  riches.  But  sud- 
denly he  reeled  and  almost  fell.  Blood  flowed  in  great 
quantities  upon  the  sand,  from  a  wound  in  his  leg 
which  he  had  received  in  the  furious  struggle  within 
the  market-place. 

''  Come,  Captain,"  cried  one  of  his  retainers,  seizing 
him  in  his  arms.  "  You  must  hasten  to  our  pinnaces. 
What  brooks  this  treasure  to  us  when  we  lose  you, 
for,  if  you  live  we  can  secure  gold  and  silver  enough 
at  any  time,  but  if  you  die  we  can  find  no  more." 

"  I  fear  me  that  I  am  grievously  hurt,"  sadly  spake 
the  Captain.  "  Give  me  but  a  drink  and  then  I  think 
that  I  can  reach  our  boats." 

A  soldier  stooped  and  bound  his  scarf  about  the 
wounded  leg  of  the  now  weakened  leader,  and,  bear- 
ing him  aloft,  the  little  band  of  adventurers  turned 
toward  the  ocean  side.  They  soon  embarked,  with 
many  wounded  besides  the  Captain,  though  none  were 
slain  save  one  trumpeter. 

Although  the  surgeons  were  kept  busy  in  providing 


36        FAMOUS   PRIVATEERSMEN 

remedies  and  salves  for  the  hurts  of  the  soldiers,  their 
main  care  was  for  the  bold  Francis  Drake,  —  leader 
of  this  desperate  expedition  in  quest  of  treasure. 

"  If  we  lose  you,"  cried  a  sailor,  "  we  can  scarce  get 
home  again.  But  while  we  enjoy  your  presence  and 
have  you  in  command  of  us,  we  can  recover  enough 
of  wealth." 

"  Before  we  left  the  harbor  we  took,  with  little 
trouble,  a  ship  of  wine  for  the  greater  comfort  of  our 
company,"  writes  one  of  the  stout  soldiers  in  this 
brave  affair.  "  And  though  they  shot  at  us  from  the 
town  we  carried  our  prize  to  the  Isle  of  Victuals. 
Here  we  cured  our  wounded  men  and  refreshed  our- 
selves in  the  goodly  gardens  which  we  found  there 
abounding  with  great  store  of  dainty  roots  and  fruit. 
There  were  also  great  plenty  of  poultry  and  other 
fowls,  no  less  strange  and  delicate." 

Although  unsuccessful  —  as  you  see  —  the  brave 
mariners  were  not  daunted,  and,  after  the  wounded 
had  recovered,  a  new  expedition  was  determined  upon, 
with  the  purpose  of  capturing  one  of  the  trains  of 
mules  which  carried  gold  from  Vera  Cruz  to  Panama. 
Drake  had  been  joined  by  numerous  Maroons  — 
negroes  who  had  escaped  from  the  Spaniards  and 
had  turned  bandits  —  and  these  were  quite  willing  and 
ready  to  aid  him  in  the  pursuit  of  treasure.  But  be- 
fore the  English  marauders  moved  towards  the  inte- 
rior, they  attempted  to  attack  Cartagena,  the  capital 
of  the  Spanish  Main. 

Sailing  into  the  harbor  in  front  of  this  prosperous 
town,  one  evening,  they  found  that  the  townsfolk  had 


SIR   FRANCIS   DRAKE  37 

been  well  warned  of  their  coming;  they  rang  their 
bells  and  fired  their  cannon,  while  all  of  the  soldiers 
ranged  themselves  before  the  ramparts. 

"  Egad,"  cried  Drake,  with  strange  cheerfulness,  in 
spite  of  his  disappointment.  '*  They're  far  too  ready 
to  receive  us.    We've  got  to  withdraw." 

So  they  prowled  around  the  mouth  of  the  harbor, 
captured  two  ships,  outward  bound,  and  roared  with 
laughter  as  they  read  a  letter,  written  to  warn  all 
nearby  citizens  of  ''  that  terrible  marauder,  pirate,  and 
butcher.  Captain  Drake." 

"  The  Spaniards  carry  no  treasure  by  land  during 
the  rainy  months,"  said  one  of  the  natives.  "  You 
must  wait  for  five  full  moons,  if  you  wish  to  catch  a 
mule  train." 

"  All  right,"  said  Captain  Drake.  "  We'll  fortify 
a  place  of  refuge  —  explore  —  and  await  the  propi- 
tious moment  when  we  can  hope  for  success." 

Thus  they  tarried  patiently  until  they  heard  from 
the  Maroons  (who  ranged  the  country  up  and  down) 
that  a  large  fleet  had  arrived  from  Spain  at  Nombre 
de  Dios.  This  was  glad  news.  Drake  smiled  as  he 
heard  it,  and  prepared  immediately  to  make  a  land 
journey  to  Panama  with  forty-eight  followers,  carry- 
ing provisions,  arms,  and  many  pairs  of  shoes,  be- 
cause they  were  to  cross  several  rivers  of  stone  and 
gravel. 

The  way  lay  between  great  palm  trees  and  through 
cool  and  pleasant  woods  where  the  sturdy  Englishmen 
were  much  encouraged  when  they  heard  that  there 
stood  a  great  tree,  not  far  from  where  they  were, 


38        FAMOUS   PRIVATEERSMEN 

from  which  one  could  see  both  the  North  Sea  (At- 
lantic) from  which  they  were  journeying,  and  the 
South  Sea  (Pacific)  towards  which  they  were  going. 
Finally  —  upon  the  fourth  day  —  they  came  to  a  very 
steep  hill,  lying  east  and  west  like  a  ridge,  and,  at  this 
point,  Pedro  —  chief  of  the  Maroons  —  took  Drake 
by  the  hand,  saying, 

**  Follow  me,  O  Captain,  and  I  will  show  you  two 
seas  at  once,  for  you  are  in  the  very  centre  of  this 
country.  Behold  you  stand  in  the  heart  of  this  fertile 
land." 

Looking  before  him,  the  lion-hearted  adventurer 
saw  a  high  tree  in  which  had  been  cut  many  steps, 
so  that  one  could  climb  to  the  top.  Here  was  a  con- 
venient bower  large  enough  for  ten  or  twelve  men  to 
seat  themselves.  Then  —  without  further  ado  —  he 
and  the  chief  Maroon  clambered  into  the  spreading 
branches  and  gazed  across  the  nodding  palm  tops 
into  the  dim  distance.  It  was  a  fair  day,  and,  as  the 
Maroons  had  felled  certain  trees  so  that  the  pros- 
pect might  be  more  clear,  upon  the  delighted  vision  of 
the  Englishman  burst  the  vista  of  the  blue  Atlantic 
and  shimmering  Pacific. 

"  I  pray  Almighty  God  in  all  his  goodness,"  cried 
out  the  adventurous  Drake  in  loud  tones  of  apprecia- 
tion, "  that  I  may  have  life  and  leave  to  sail  but  once 
an  English  ship  in  this  mighty  ocean  of  the  West !  " 

Then  he  called  up  the  rest  of  the  voyagers,  and 
told  them  of  his  prayer  and  purpose. 

"  I  will  follow  you  by  God's  grace ! "  cried  John 
Oxenham,  "  unless  you  do  not  wish  my  company." 


SIR   FRANCIS  DRAKE  3d 

Drake  smiled  g(X)d-humoredly,  and,  with  a  wave 
of  his  arm  in  the  direction  of  tlie  ghstening  waters, 
descended  to  the  ground. 

"  On,  my  hearties !  "  cried  he,  "  and  we'll  soon  bag 
a  mule  train  with  its  panniers  filled  with  gold." 

The  men  started  forward,  singing  an  old  English 
ballad.  As  they  walked  through  the  high  pampas 
grass,  they  began  to  get  glimpses  of  Panama  and  the 
low-lying  ships  in  the  harbor.  They  kept  silence  and 
at  length  hid  themselves  in  a  grove  near  the  high  road 
from  Panama  to  Nombre  de  Dios,  while  a  negro  was 
sent  into  the  city  as  a  spy. 

In  the  afternoon  the  faithful  henchman  returned. 

"  A  certain  great  man  intends  to  go  to  Spain  by 
the  first  ship,"  he  said.  ''  He  is  travelling  towards 
Nombre  de  Dios  this  very  night  with  his  daughter 
and  his  family.  He  has  fourteen  mules,  eight  of 
which  are  laden  with  gold  and  one  with  jewelry. 
Two  other  trains  of  fifty  mules  each  —  burdened  with 
food  and  little  silver  —  will  also  come  up  this  night." 

The  English  smiled,  and,  without  more  ado, 
marched  to  within  two  miles  of  Vera  Cruz,  where 
half  of  them  lay  down  upon  one  side  of  the  road, 
and  half  upon  the  other.  They  were  screened  by  the 
tall  grass ;  so  well,  indeed,  that  no  eye  could  see  them, 
and  in  an  hour's  time,  to  their  eager  ears  came  the 
sound  of  mule  trains  passing  to  and  fro  near  Vera 
Cruz,  where  trade  was  lively  because  of  the  presence 
of  the  Spanish  fleet.  All  was  propitious  for  a  suc- 
cessful attack. 

But  misfortune  seemed  always  to  follow  the  bold 


40        FAMOUS   PRIVATEERSMEN 

and  adventurous  Drake.  As  mischance  would  have 
it,  one  of  his  men  called  Robert  Pike,  who  had  "  drunk 
too  much  brandy  without  water,"  was  lying  close  to 
the  roadway  by  the  side  of  a  grinning  Maroon,  and, 
when  a  well-mounted  cavalier  from  Vera  Cruz  rode 
by  —  with  his  page  running  at  his  stirrup  —  he  rose 
up  to  peer  at  him,  even  though  his  companion  pulled 
him  down  in  the  endeavor  to  hide  his  burly  form. 

"  Sacre  Nom  de  Dieu,"  cried  the  traveller.  "  It 
is  a  white  man !  An  Englishman !  "  and,  putting 
spurs  to  his  horse,  he  rode  away  at  a  furious  gallop 
in  order  to  warn  others  of  the  highwayman's  position. 

The  ground  was  hard  and  the  night  was  still.  As 
Captain  Drake  heard  the  gentleman's  trot  change  into 
a  gallop,  he  uttered  a  round  British  oath. 

"  Discovered,"  he  muttered,  "  but  by  whose  fault 
I  know  not.  We'll  await  the  other  trains  and  mayhap 
we'll  have  some  booty  yet." 

The  gentleman,  in  fact,  warned  the  Treasurer,  who, 
fearing  that  Captain  Drake  had  wandered  to  this  hid- 
den thicket,  turned  his  train  of  mules  aside  and  let 
the  others  —  who  were  behind  him  —  pass  on.  Thus, 
by  recklessness  of  one  of  the  company,  a  rich  booty 
was  lost,  but  —  as  an  Englishman  has  well  said,  "  We 
thought  that  God  would  not  let  it  be  taken,  for  likely 
it  was  well  gotten  by  that  Treasurer." 

There  was  no  use  repining,  for  soon  a  tinkling  of 
bells  and  tread  of  hoofs  came  to  the  eager  ears  of 
the  adventurers,  and,  through  the  long  pampas  grass 
ambled  the  other  two  mule  trains  —  their  drivers 
snapping  the  whips  with  little  thought  of  the  lurking 


SIR   FRANCIS   DRAKE  41 

danger.  In  a  moment  they  were  between  the  English 
and  hidden  Maroons,  who  —  with  a  wild  cheer  — 
dashed  upon  them,  surrounded  them,  and  easily  held 
them  in  their  power.  Two  horse  loads  of  silver  was 
the  prize  for  all  this  trouble  and  hard  travel. 

'*  I  never  grieve  over  things  past,"  cried  Drake. 
"  We  must  now  march  home  by  the  shortest  route. 
It  is  certainly  provoking  that  we  lost  the  mule  train 
of  gold,  particularly  as  we  were  betrayed  by  one  of 
our  own  men.  Come,  soldiers,  turn  about  and  re- 
treat to  our  good  ships." 

Half  satisfied  but  cheerful,  the  soldiers  and  Ma- 
roons turned  towards  the  coast,  and,  as  they  neared 
Vera  Cruz,  the  infantrymen  of  the  town  swarmed 
outside  to  attack  the  hated  men  of  Merrie  England, 
with  cries  of,  "  Surrender !    Surrender !  " 

Drake  looked  at  them  scornfully,  replying, 

"  An  Englishman  never  surrenders !  " 

At  this  a  volley  rang  out  and  one  of  the  intrepid 
adventurers  was  "  so  powdered  with  hail-shot  that  he 
could  not  recover  his  life,  although  he  continued  all 
that  day  with  Drake's  men."  But  stout  Francis  blew 
his  whistle  —  the  signal  for  attack  —  and,  with  a  wild 
cry,  the  Maroons  and  English  rushed  for  the  black- 
haired  and  sallow-skinned  defenders  of  the  town. 
"Yo  Peho!  Yo  Peho!"  wailed  the  half-crazed  na- 
tives as  they  leaped  high  in  the  air,  and  encouraged 
by  the  presence  of  the  English,  they  broke  through 
the  thickets  at  the  town's  end  and  forced  the  enemy 
to  fly,  while  the  now  terrified  Spanish  scurried  pell 
mell  down  the  coast.     Several  of  Drake's  followers 


42        FAMOUS   PRIVATEERSMEN 

were  wounded,  and  one  Maroon  was  run  through 
with  a  pike,  but  his  courage  was  so  great  that  he 
revenged  his  own  death  ere  he  died,  by  slaying  a 
Spaniard  who  opposed  him. 

At  sunrise  the  land  pirates  continued  their  journey, 
carrying  some  plunder  from  Vera  Cruz.  Some  of  the 
men  fainted  with  weakness,  but  two  Maroons  would 
carry  them  along  until  they  could  again  walk,  and  thus 
—  struggling,  cursing  and  singing  —  the  party  of 
weary  and  disappointed  marauders  neared  the  place 
where  they  had  left  their  ship.  A  messenger  was  sent 
forward  with  a  golden  toothpick  to  those  left  behind 
upon  the  vessel  and  a  request  that  the  ship  be  brought 
into  the  narrow  channel  of  a  certain  river.  It  was 
done,  and  when  at  last  the  weary  plunderers  reached 
the  shore,  they  gave  a  mighty  cheer  as  they  saw  the 
white,  bellying  sails  of  their  staunch,  English  vessel. 
Their  journey  for  pelf  and  jewels  had  been  a 
failure. 

This  did  not  discourage  the  lion-hearted  Drake, 
who  declared,  with  a  smile,  "  We'll  yet  catch  a  mule 
train,  boys,  and  one  in  which  the  panniers  are  filled 
with  sufficient  gold  to  sink  our  good  ship.  Keep  your 
hearts  bright  and  I'll  gain  you  enough  of  treasure  to 
house  you  in  peace  and  comfort  in  your  old  age. 
Remember  — '  Fortune  favors  the  brave ! '  "  He  had 
spoken  with  truth. 

Not  long  afterwards  a  French  captain  appeared, 
whose  men  were  only  too  eager  for  a  little  journey 
ashore  after  golden  mule  trains  and  battle.  So  a 
party  was  made  up  of  twenty  Frenchmen,  fifteen  Eng- 


SIR   FRANCIS   DRAKE  43 

lishmen,  and  some  Maroons,  who  sailed  with  a  frig- 
ate and  two  pinnaces,  towards  a  river  called  Rio  Fran- 
cisco —  to  the  west  of  Nombre  de  Dios.  They  landed, 
struck  inland,  and  were  soon  near  the  high  road  from 
Panama  to  Nombre  de  Dios,  where  mule  trains  passed 
daily  —  some  with  food  and  merchandise  —  a  few 
with  golden  ingots  and  bars  of  silver. 

In  silence  they  marched  along  and  spent  the  night 
about  a  mile  from  the  road,  where  they  could  plainly 
hear  the  carpenters  working  on  their  ships  —  which 
they  did  at  night  because  of  the  fierce,  torrid  sun  dur- 
ing the  day.  Next  morning  —  the  first  of  April,  but 
not  an  April  Fool's  day  by  any  means  —  they  heard 
such  a  number  of  bells  that  the  Maroons  began 
to  chuckle  and  say,  "  You  will  have  much  gold. 
Yo  Peho!  Yo  Peho!  This  time  we  will  all  be 
rich!" 

Suddenly  three  mule  trains  came  to  view,  one  of 
fifty  long-eared  beasts  of  burden;  two  of  seventy  each, 
with  every  animal  carrying  three  hundred  pounds 
weight  of  silver,  amounting  to  nearly  thirty  tons.  The 
sight  seemed  almost  too  good  to  be  true.  With  a  wild 
shout  the  ambuscaders  leaped  from  their  hiding  places 
to  rush  frantically  upon  the  startled  drivers.  In  a 
few  moments  the  train  was  in  possession  of  Drake 
and  his  French  and  half-negro  associates,  who  chuckled 
and  grunted  like  peccaries. 

The  leading  mules  were  taken  by  the  heads  and  all 
the  rest  lay  down,  as  they  always  do  when  stopped. 
The  fifteen  soldiers  who  guarded  each  train  were 
routed,  but  not  before  they  had  wounded  the  French 


44        FAMOUS   PEIVATEERSMEN 

captain  most  severely  and  had  slain  one  of  the  Ma- 
roons. Silver  bars  and  gold  ingots  were  there  aplenty. 
They  were  seized  and  carried  off,  while,  what  was 
not  transported,  was  buried  in  the  earthen  burrows 
made  by  the  great  land  crabs  under  fallen  trees,  and 
in  the  sand  and  gravel  of  a  shallow  river. 

"  And  now  for  home,"  cried  a  valorous  sea  farer, 
after  a  party  had  returned  with  a  portion  of  the  buried 
treasure,  which  was  divided  equally  between  the 
French  and  the  English.  Much  of  that  left  in  the 
sand  crab  holes  had  been  discovered  by  the  Spaniards 
—  but  not  all.  Thirteen  bars  of  silver  and  a  few 
quoits  of  gold  had  rewarded  the  search  of  the  expect- 
ant voyageurs. 

*'Yes,"  cried  all.  "Sails  aloft  for  Merrie  Eng- 
land ! "  So,  spreading  canvas,  the  bold  adventurers 
were  soon  headed  for  the  foggy  and  misty  isle  from 
which  they  had  come.  On  Sunday,  August  ninth, 
1573  —  just  about  sermon  time  —  they  dropped  an- 
chor in  the  peaceful  harbor  of  Plymouth. 

"  And  the  news  of  the  Captain's  return  brought 
unto  his  people,  did  so  speedily  pass  over  all  the 
church,  and  fill  the  minds  of  the  congregation  with 
delight  and  desire  to  see  him,  that  very  few,  or  none, 
remained  with  the  preacher.  All  hastened  to  see  the 
evidence  of  God's  love  and  blessing  towards  the  gra- 
cious Queen  and  country,  by  the  fruit  of  the  gallant 
mariner's  labor  and  success." 

"  To  God  alone,"  spake  an  humble  citizen  of  Plym- 
outh, "  be  the  Glory." 

And  all  echoed  these  pious  sentiments,  in  spite  of 


<  Q 


^  c 

>  2 

^  I 

< 


c 
o 

<-t-l 

(A      O 


SIR   FRANCIS   DRAKE  46 

the  fact  that  Drake  was  a  robber,  a  pirate,  and  a 
buccaneer.     But  was  he  not  their  own  countryman? 

The  scene  now  changes.  It  is  a  gray  day  at  Plym- 
outh and  anxious  faces  peer  into  the  street  from  the 
windows  of  the  low,  tiled  houses.  A  crowd  has  col- 
lected upon  the  jutting  cliffs  and  all  gaze  with  eager 
eyes  towards  the  ocean.  Men  speak  in  hushed  and 
subdued  voices,  for  there  is  trouble  in  the  air. 

Among  the  knots  of  keen-eyed  English  there  is  one 
small  party  which  seems  to  be  as  joyous  as  a  lot  of 
school-boys.  Five  men  are  playing  at  bowls,  and  one 
of  them  is  stout,  and  well  knit,  and  swarthy  visaged 
with  long  exposure  to  the  elements.  He  is  laughing 
uproariously,  when  a  lean  fellow  comes  running  from 
the  very  edge  of  those  beetling  cliffs  which  jut  far  out 
into  the  gray,  green  Atlantic. 

"  Hark'ee,  Captain  Drake !  "  he  cries.  "  Ships  are 
in  the  offing,  and  many  of  them  too!  It  must  be  the 
fleet  of  Philip  of  Spain  come  to  ravage  our  beauteous 
country !  " 

"  Ah,  indeed,"  answers  the  staunch-figured  captain, 
without  looking  up.  "  Then  let  me  have  one  last  shot, 
I  pray  thee,  before  I  go  to  meet  them." 

And  so  saying,  he  calmly  tosses  another  ball 
upon  the  greensward,  knocks  aside  the  wooden  pins, 
then  smiling,  turns  and  strides  towards  the  water- 
side. 

Thus  Drake  —  the  lion-hearted  —  goes  out  to  battle 
with  the  great  Armada  of  Philip  of  Spain,  with  a 
smile  upon  his  lips,  and  full  confidence  in  his  ability 


46        FAMOUS   PRIVATEERSMEN 

to  defeat  the  Spaniards  at  home  as  well  as  on  the 
Spanish  Main.    Let  us  see  how  he  fared? 

Smarting  with  keen  anger  at  Drake  and  his  suc- 
cessful attacks  upon  his  western  possessions,  Philip  — 
the  powerful  monarch  of  Spain  —  determined  to 
gather  a  great  fleet  together  and  to  invade  England 
with  a  mighty  army. 

"  That  rascally  pirate  has  beaten  me  at  Cadiz,  at 
Cartagena,  and  at  Lisbon,"  the  irate  king  had  roared, 
with  no  show  of  composure.  "  Now  I  will  sail  against 
him  and  crush  this  buccaneer,  so  that  he  and  his  kind 
can  never  rise  again." 

A  mighty  fleet  of  heavy  ships  —  the  Armada  — 
was  not  ready  to  sail  until  July,  1588,  and  the  months 
before  this  had  been  well  spent  by  the  English  in 
preparation  for  defense,  for  they  knew  of  the  full 
intention  of  their  southern  enemy.  Shipwrights 
worked  day  and  night.  The  clamoring  dockyards 
hummed  with  excitement,  while  Good  Queen  Bess  and 
her  Ministers  of  State  wrote  defiant  letters  to  the 
missives  from  the  Spanish  crown.  The  cold  blood 
of  the  English  —  always  quite  lukewarm  in  their 
misty,  moisty  isle  —  had  begun  to  boil  with  vigor. 
The  Britons  would  fight  valiantly. 

As  the  lumbering  galleons  neared  the  English  coast, 
a  heavy  mist  which  hid  them,  blew  away,  and  the  men 
of  England  saw  the  glimmering  water  fairly  black 
with  the  wooden  vultures  of  old  Spain.  The  Span- 
iards had  come  ready  to  fight  in  the  way  in  which 
they  had  won  many  a  brilliant  victory;  with  a  horde 
of  towering  hulks,  of  double-deckers  and  store-ships 


SIR   FRANCIS   DRAXE  47 

manned  by  slaves  and  yellow-skinned  retainers,  who 
despised  big  guns  and  loved  a  close  encounter  with 
hand  thrusts  and  push  of  pike.  Like  a  huge,  wooden 
octopus  this  arrogant  fleet  of  Arragon  moved  its  ten- 
tacles around  the  saucy,  new-made  pinnaces  of  the 
tight  little  isle. 

''  The  boats  of  the  English  were  very  nimble  and 
of  good  steerage,"  writes  a  Spaniard,  "  so  that  the 
English  did  with  them  as  they  desired.  And  our 
ships  being  very  heavy  compared  with  the  lightness  of 
those  of  the  enemy,  it  was  impossible  to  come  to  hand- 
stroke  with  them." 

This  tells  the  whole  story.    With  a  light  wind  astern 

—  the  war  ships  of  the  English  bore  down  easily  upon 
the  heavy-bottomed  Spanish  galleons  and  fired  their 
guns  at  the  hulls  of  the  enemy. 

"  Don't  waste  your  balls  upon  the  rigging,"  cried 
Drake  through  a  trumpet.  "  Sight  low  and  sink  'em 
if  you  can.  But  keep  away  from  the  grappling  hooks 
so's  not  to  let  'em  get  hold  of  you.     If  they  once  do 

—  you're  lost !  " 

Now  was  the  sound  of  splitting  of  boards,  as  the 
solid  shot  pumped  great  holes  in  the  sides  of  the  high 
rocking  galleons.  Dense  clouds  of  vapor  hung  over 
the  struggling  combatants  —  partly  from  a  sea  fog 
which  the  July  sun  had  not  thoroughly  burned  away, 
and  partly  from  the  spitting  mouths  of  the  cannon. 
Fire  burst  from  the  decks,  the  roar  of  the  guns  was 
intermingled  with  the  shrill  wails  of  the  slaves,  the 
guttural  cries  of  the  seamen,  the  screams  of  the 
wounded  and  the  derisive  howls  of  those  maddened 


48        FAMOUS   PEIVATEERSMEN 

by  battle.  The  decks  were  crimson  with  blood ;  sails 
split  and  tore  as  the  chain-shot  hummed  through  the 
ngging,  and  the  sharp  twang  of  the  arquebusques 
was  mingled  with  the  crash  of  long-barrelled  mus- 
kets. 

No  men  can  fight  like  those  who  are  defending 
their  own  homes.  At  Gettysburg,  the  Army  of  the 
Potomac  —  twice  beaten  in  an  attack  upon  the  South 
in  the  enemy's  country  —  struggled  as  it  had  never 
done  before,  —  and  won.  It  had  nowhere  battled  as 
when  the  foe  was  pushing  it  back  upon  its  own  soil 
and  cities. 

So  here  —  no  fighters  ever  bled  as  did  the  English 
when  the  greedy  hands  of  Spain  were  clutching  at 
their  shores.  The  light  ships  hung  near  the  Span- 
iards at  a  distance  and  did  not  board  until  spars  were 
down  and  the  great  rakish  hulls  were  part  helpless. 
Then  —  with  a  wild  cheer  —  the  little  galleons  — 
often  two  at  a  time  —  would  grapple  with  the  enemy 
and  board  —  cutlasses  swinging,  pistols  spitting,  and 
handspikes  hewing  a  way  through  the  struggling, 
yellow-faced  ruffians  of  Philip  of  Arragon. 

While  the  awful  battle  raged,  fire  ships  were  pre- 
pared on  shore  and  sent  down  upon  the  Spanish  fleet, 
burning  fiercely  and  painting  the  skyline  with  red. 
Some  of  the  large  vessels  had  anchored,  and,  as  these 
terrors  approached,  they  slipped  their  cables  in  order 
to  escape.  Confusion  beset  the  ranks  of  the  boastful 
foe  and  cheered  on  the  British  bull-dogs  to  renewed 
exertions. 

At  six  in  the  evening  a  mighty  cry  welled  from  the 


SIR   FRANCIS   DRAKE  49 

British  boats.  "  They  fly !  They  fly !  "  sounded  above 
the  ruck  and  roar  of  battle. 

Yes  —  it  was  the  truth.  Beaten  and  dismayed,  the 
Spanish  fleet  bore  away  to  the  North,  while  the  Eng- 
lish —  in  spite  of  the  fact  that  their  powder  was  wet, 
and  nearly  all  spent  — ''  gave  them  chase  as  if  they 
lacked  nothing,  until  they  had  cleared  their  own  coast 
and  some  part  of  Scotland  of  them.''  The  Armada  — 
split,  part  helpless  —  drifted  away  from  Plymouth, 
and  wild  cheers  of  joy  came  from  the  deck  of  the  ves- 
sel which  carried  bold  Sir  Francis  Drake.  The  great 
battle  had  been  won. 

So  crippled  were  many  of  the  Spanish  hulks  that 
they  were  wrecked  in  stormy  weather,  off  the  coast 
of  Scotland  and  Ireland.  Not  half  of  those  who  put 
to  sea  ever  reached  Spain  again.  Many  sailors  were 
drowned,  or  perished  miserably  by  the  hands  of  the 
natives  of  the  coast,  and  some  who  escaped  were  put 
to  death  by  the  Queen's  orders.  Fever  and  sickness 
broke  out  in  the  English  ships  and  the  followers  of 
bold  Drake  died  by  hundreds,  "  sickening  one  day  and 
perishing  the  next." 

The  English  vessels,  themselves,  were  in  a  bad  way 

—  they  had  to  be  disinfected  and  the  men  put  ashore 

—  where  the  report  of  the  many  wrecks  and  the  mas- 
sacre of  Spanish  soldiers,  eased  the  anxiety  of  the 
once  terrified  inhabitants  of  the  tight  little  isle,  and 
made  it  certain  that  the  Armada  would  never  return. 
Drake  and  his  bold  seamen  had  saved  the  people  of 
Merrie  England.  Again  hats  off  to  this  pirate  of  the 
Spanish  Main! 


50        FAMOUS   PRIVATEERSMEN 

Safely  settled  in  Buckland  Abbey,  knighted,  hon- 
ored, respected  —  the  hero  of  the  defense  of  England 
—  one  would  think  that  Drake  would  have  remained 
peacefully  at  home  to  die  "  with  his  boots  on."  But 
not  so.  The  spirit  of  adventure  called  to  him  with 
irresistible  force,  and  again  he  set  out  for  the  Spanish 
Main.  He  had  sailed  around  the  world  before  his 
grapple  with  the  Armada ;  he  had  harassed  the  Span- 
iard in  an  expedition  to  Lisbon;  he  was  the  idol  of 
the  English.  He  had  done  enough  —  you  say.  Yes, 
he  had  done  enough  —  but  —  like  all  men  who  love 
the  game  of  life  he  wished  to  have  just  one  more 
expedition  in  search  of  gold  and  adventure,  for  —  by 
nature  he  was  a  gambler,  and  he  was  throwing  the 
dice  with  Fate. 

So  a  goodly  crew  sailed  with  him  again,  hoping 
for  another  raid  upon  mule  trains  and  cities  of  treas- 
ure. But  alas!  There  was  to  be  a  different  story 
from  the  others.  All  the  towns  and  hamlets  of  the 
Spanish  Main  had  been  warned  to  "  be  careful  and 
look  well  to  themselves,  for  that  Drake  and  Hawkins 
were  making  ready  in  England  to  come  upon  them." 
And  when  the  English  arrived  they  found  stout  de- 
fense and  valiant  men,  nor  was  a  sail  seen  "  worth 
giving  chase  unto."  Hawkins  died,  many  grew  ill  of 
fever,  and  finally  Drake,  himself,  succumbed  to  the 
malarial  atmosphere  of  Panama.  He  was  to  remain 
where  gold  and  adventure  had  first  lured  him. 

On  January  the  twenty-eighth,  1596,  the  great  cap- 
tain yielded  up  his  spirit  "  like  a  Christian,  quietly  in 
his  cabin."     And  a  league  from  the  shore  of  Porto 


SIE   FRANCIS   DRAKE  51 

Rico,  the  mighty  rover  of  the  seas  was  placed  in  a 
weighted  hammock  and  tossed  into  the  sobbing  ocean. 
The  spume  frothed  above  the  eddying  current,  sucked 
downward  by  the  emaciated  form  of  the  famous  mari- 
ner, and  a  soHtary  gull  shrieked  cruelly  above  the  bub- 
bles, below  which  —  upon  beads  of  coral  and  clean 
sand  —  rested  the  body  of  Sir  Francis  Drake,  rover, 
rogue,  and  rattling  sea  ranger.  It  was  his  last  jour- 
ney. 

"  Weep  for  this  soul,  who,  in  fathoms  of  azure, 
Lies  where  the  wild  tarpon  breaks  through  the  foam, 
Where  the  sea  otter  mews  to  its  brood  in  the  ripples. 
As  the  pelican  wings  near  the  palm-forest  gloom. 
Ghosts  of  the  buccaneers  flit  through  the  branches, 
Dusky  and  dim  in  the  shadows  of  eve, 
While  shrill  screams  the  parrot,  —  the  lord  of  Potanches, 
'  Drake,  Captain  Drake,  you've  had  your  last  leave.' " 


SEA  IRONY 

One  day  I  saw  a  ship  upon  the  sands 

Careened  upon  beam  ends,  her  tilted  deck 

Swept  clear  of  rubbish  of  her  long-past  wreck; 

Her  colors  struck,  but  not  by  human  hands; 

Her  masts  the  driftwood  of  what  distant  strands! 

Her  frowning  ports,  where,  at  the  Admiral's  beck, 

Grim-visaged  cannon  held  the  foe  in  check. 

Gaped  for  the  frolic  of  the  minnow  bands. 

The  seaweed  banners  in  her  fo'ks'le  waved, 

A  turtle  basked  upon  her  capstan  head; 

Her  cabin's  pomp  the  clownish  sculpin  braved, 

And,  on  her  prow,  where  the  lost  figure-head 

Once  turned  the  brine,  a  name  forgot  was  graved, 

It  was  "  The  Irresistible "  I  read. 

— ■  Heaton. 


SIR  WALTER  RALEIGH 
PERSECUTOR  OF  THE  SPANIARDS 

(1552-1618) 


All  great  men  have  lived  by  hope."  — James  Freeman  Clarke. 


w 


SIR    WALTER    RALEIGH 

PERSECUTOR    OF   THE    SPANIARDS 

(1552-1618) 

"When  the  sobbing  sea  is  squally, 
Then,  — look  out  for  Walter  Raleigh! 
He's  the  fellow  whom  Queen  Bess  is  said  to  love. 
He's  a  reckless,  handsome  sailor. 
With  a  *  Vandyke '  like  a  tailor, 
He  can  coo  fond  words  of  loving  like  a  dove. 
Faith!    I  like  this  gallant  rover, 
Who  has  ploughed  the  wild  seas  over. 
Who  has  passed  the  grim  and  wild  equator's  ring. 
And  I  cheer,  whene'er  I  view  him. 
For  —  my  Boy  —  off  Spain  I  knew  him 
When  he  trimmed  the  Spanish  cruisers,  like  a  King." 

—  Chant  of  the  Plymouth  Dock-Hand. 

BOYS!  You  have  all  heard  about  the  Square 
Deal.  Well  —  Here  is  the  story  of  a  man  who 
didn't  get  one. 
Walter  Raleigh  was  a  brave  man;  he  was  an  able 
sea-farer;  his  younger  manhood  was  spent  in  the 
midst  of  the  most  brilliant  Royal  Court  which  England 
has  known.  He  proved  his  courage  and  military  prow- 
ess in  more  than  one  bitterly  contested  battle-field  and 
naval  conflict.  His  love  of  his  own  land  and  his  hatred 
of  his  enemies  was  ardent. 

He  was  also  a  fellow  of  wit,  and,  as  an  author,  took 
rank  with  the  great  literary  lights  of  the  Elizabethan 

65 


56       FAMOUS   PRIVATEERSMEN 

Age.  He  was  an  adventurer,  and,  in  middle  life,  as 
well  as  in  old  age,  braved  the  great  deep  and  perils  of 
savage  lands  in  the  magnificent  attempt  to  make  dis- 
coveries and  to  settle  English  colonies  in  the  New 
World.  Chivalrous  in  actions  and  feeling;  of  hand- 
some person;  graceful  manners  and  courtly  address; 
it  is  no  wonder  that  he  had  a  host  of  enemies :  those 
fellows  who  couldn't  do  anything  worth  while  them- 
selves, and  wanted  to  "  pull  the  other  fellow  down." 
There  are  plenty  of  them  around,  to-day,  doing  the 
same  thing  in  the  same,  old  way. 

As  an  Englishman  he  loved  England  to  such  an 
extent,  that  —  upon  the  return  from  one  of  his  numer- 
ous voyages  —  he  dropped  upon  one  knee  and  kissed 
the  sand. 

"  My  men,"  said  he  to  his  followers,  "  I  love  this 
land  as  nothing  else  on  earth !  " 

The  hostility  of  his  rivals  subjected  him  to  harsh 
ill  treatment.  It  did  not  dampen  his  love  for 
England. 

The  silly  caprices  of  Queen  Elizabeth,  who  —  like 
most  women  —  was  swayed,  not  by  her  reason,  but  by 
her  sentiments,  made  him  suffer  imprisonment.  Yet, 
it  did  not  dampen  his  love  for  England. 

The  terrible  and  bitter  dislike  of  King  James  —  who 
succeeded  the  Virgin  Queen  —  finally  led  to  his  trial 
for  treason ;  his  execution ;  and  his  death. 

Yet,  it  did  not  dampen  his  love  for  England. 

If  England  can  produce  men  of  such  a  mold,  nowa- 
days, she  will  continue  to  be  a  mighty  world  power. 

Do  you  think  that  you  could  be  as  patriotic  as  Sir 


SIR    WALTER   RALEIGH  57 

Walter  Raleigh?     Particularly  if  you  were  treated  as 
he  was  treated  ?    Think  it  over ! 

One  day,  the  ancient  palace  of  Greenwich,  which 
stood  on  the  banks  of  the  Thames  —  a  few  miles  below 
London  —  presented  a  lively  and  brilliant  scene. 
Courtiers,  arrayed  in  gorgeous  colors  and  glittering 
ornaments,  walked  about,  chattering  gaily,  —  like  a 
flock  of  sparrows.  Fine,  young  cavaliers  were  there, 
attired  in  rich  velvets,  sparkling  with  gems,  armed  with 
gold-hilted  swords.  Grave  statesmen  wandered 
around,  —  with  beards  as  white  as  their  ruffles. 
Stately  dames,  with  heavy  and  gaily  trimmed  trains, 
peered  at  the  beautiful  belles,  and  said: 

"  My,  isn't  she  a  fright !  "  or 

"  Goodness,  what  dreadful  manners  the  Duchess 
so-and-so  has ! " 

Just  as  they  do  to-day.     Times  do  not  change. 

Trumpets  blared  a  fan-fa-rade  and  lines  of  soldiers 
gave  forth  inspiriting  sounds,  with  many  musical  in- 
struments. There  was  a  stir  and  flutter  in  the  crowd ; 
and  some  one  called  out : 

"  She's  coming !    Hats  oflF  to  the  Queen !  '* 

So  all  the  men  took  off  their  hats,  —  for  they  were 
courtiers,  and  it  was  their  business  to  do  so,  whenever 
Her  Royal  Highness  came  around.  Many  of  them 
didn't  like  to  do  it  but  if  they  hadn't  done  so,  some 
spy  would  have  cried  out  "  Treason !  "  And  they 
would  have  been  hustled  off  to  the  Tower.  You  just 
bet  they  took  off  their  hats ! 

Descending  the  broad  flight  of  steps,  with  proud 


58       FAMOUS   PEIVATEERSMEN 

and  majestic  mien,  the  tall  and  slender  figure  of 
Elizabeth  —  the  maiden  Queen  of  England  —  was 
seen  approaching. 

She  was  then  in  the  mature  ripeness  of  middle  age, 
but  she  still  preserved  not  a  few  remnants  of  the  beauty 
of  her  youth.  Her  form  was  straight  and  well  pro- 
portioned. Her  large,  blue  eyes  were  yet  bright  and 
expressive;  her  complexion  was  still  wonderfully  fair 
and  smooth.  Her  well  arranged  hair  was  luxuriant 
and  was  of  a  light  red.  A  large,  fan-like  collar  of 
richest  lace  rose  from  her  slender  neck,  above  her  head 
behind;  and  her  tresses  were  combed  high  from  her 
forehead.  Jewels  blazed  from  her  dress.  Her  attire 
was  far  more  splendid  than  that  of  any  of  the  ladies 
of  her  court. 

As  it  happened,  a  heavy  shower  had  just  passed  over, 
and  little  puddles  of  water  stood  all  around  upon  the 
gravelled  paths.  Bursting  through  the  fast-vanishing 
clouds,  the  sun  cast  its  rays  upon  the  trees  still  dripping 
with  glittering  drops;  and  upon  the  smiling  Queen, 
who  —  surrounded  by  a  gay  group  of  courtiers  —  set 
forth  upon  a  promenade  through  the  park.  She  chatted 
affably  with  all.  They  tried  to  make  themselves  as 
agreeable  as  possible,  for  he  who  was  most  agreeable 
received  the  best  plums  from  the  Royal  Tree.  Politics 
haven't  changed  any  since  that  day. 

The  Queen  walked  on,  playing  with  a  beautiful, 
white  greyhound,  and,  pretty  soon  she  came  to  a  muddy 
spot  in  the  path. 

"  Zounds !  "  said  she  (or  it  may  have  been  something 
stronger,   for  historians  say  that   she  could   "  swear 


SIR   WALTER   RALEIGH  69 

valiantly").  "Zounds!  Now  I  will  spoil  my  pretty 
shoes!  " 

"  And  also  your  pretty  feet,"  interjected  a  courtier. 
He  received  a  smile  for  this  compliment  and  the  Queen 
mentally  made  a  note  of  it,  —  for  future  use  in  the 
distribution  of  Court  Favors. 

She  hesitated,  looked  around  aimlessly,  and  stood 
still. 

At  this  instant  a  young  noble  —  six  feet  tall  and 
elegantly  attired  —  stepped  forward ;  and,  throwing 
aside  his  richly  embroidered  cloak,  spread  it  over  the 
muddy  pool. 

"  Prithee,  pass  onward !  "  said  he,  bowing  low. 

Elizabeth  was  delighted. 

"  Good  Walter  Raleigh,"  said  she,  smiling.  "  You 
are  truly  a  gallant  knight ! "  And  she  tripped  gaily 
across  the  embroidered  mantlet.  "  I  will  reward  you 
right  well  for  this !  " 

But  the  courtiers,  the  Ladies,  and  the  Statesmen 
glanced  with  undisguised  envy  at  the  young  gallant 
who  had  so  readily  pleased  their  Mistress;  and  they 
scowled  at  him  as  Elizabeth  kept  him  at  her  side  during 
the  rest  of  her  promenade.  "  The  Beggar's  outdone 
us  all !  "  said  one.    "  Down  with  him !  " 

But  they  could  not  down  Sir  Walter  just  then. 
After  awhile  they  had  "  their  innings." 

Rough,  vain,  whimsical  Queen  Bess  was  fond  of 
handsome,  and  especially  of  witty  and  eloquent  young 
men.  She  grew  more  attached  to  Sir  Walter  Raleigh 
every  day.  He  rapidly  rose  in  power  and  influence, 
and,  as  a  poet,  became  well  known.     His  verses  were 


60       FAMOUS   PRIVATEERSMEN 

read  in  the  luxurious  halls  of  the  palace  with  exclama- 
tions of  delight,  while  the  tales  of  his  military  exploits 
were  eagerly  repeated  from  mouth  to  mouth;  for 
Raleigh  had  fought  valiantly  in  France  and  had  helped 
to  suppress  an  insurrection  in  Ireland. 

And  still  the  jealous  courtiers  murmured  among 
themselves. 

Raleigh  was  appointed  "  Warden  of  the  Stanneries," 
or  mines,  in  Cornwall  and  Devonshire,  from  which 
he  derived,  each  year,  a  large  income.  He  was  made 
Captain  of  the  Queen's  Guard.  He  was  created  Lord 
Lieutenant  of  Cornwall  and  Vice-Admiral  of  Devon. 
He  received  vast  estates  in  Ireland  and  many  privileges 
and  licenses,  so  that  he  was  fast  becoming  a  rich  man. 
He  was  splendid  and  extravagant  in  his  dress.  He 
grew  arrogant.  He  had,  in  fact,  "  too  much  Ego  in  his 
Cosmos." 

So,  the  jealous  courtiers  continued  to  murmur 
among  themselves. 

Elizabeth  was  fickle  as  well  as  sentimental.  Her 
fancy  passed  lightly  from  one  gallant  to  another.  For 
some  time  Leicester  (who  had  once  been  her  sole 
favorite,  and  who  desired  to  regain  his  position)  had 
been  growing  jealous  of  Raleigh's  ascendency;  and 
he  had  been  delighted  to  see  that  Queen  Bess  had  taken 
a  violent  fancy  to  the  impetuous  Earl  of  Essex.  A 
quarrel  took  place  between  Raleigh  and  the  Ruler 
of  England.  He  was  affronted  before  the  whole 
court  and  retired  to  his  chambers,  overwhelmed  with 
grief. 

And  all  the  jealous  courtiers  punched  each  other 


SIR    WALTER  RALEIGH- 


SIR   WALTER   RALEIGH  61 

beneath  the  ribs,  and  laughed  "  Ha !  Ha !  Ha !  What 
did  we  tell  you?" 

It  took  the  "  Ego  "  out  of  Raleigh's  "  Cosmos." 

But  the  gallant  courtier  had  a  half-brother  —  Sir 
Humphrey  Gilbert  —  who  had  just  returned  from  a 
voyage  around  the  world  in  the  good  ship  Golden 
Hind. 

"  Let's  fit  out  a  small  fleet,"  said  he  to  Raleigh, 
"  and  establish  an  English  colony  in  Newfoundland." 

"  I'm  with  you,"  cried  Sir  Walter.  "  We'll  found 
another  England  in  far  distant  America!  On  with 
it!" 

Thus,  an  expedition  of  five  ships  sailed  from  Plym- 
outh, in  the  early  summer  of  1583.  Sir  Humphrey 
boarded  the  Squirrel,  and  bade  his  kinsman  an  affec- 
tionate adieu. 

"  You  must  remain  behind,"  said  he,  "  and  regain 
our  position  at  court !  " 

"  That  I  will  endeavor  t6  do,"  answered  Raleigh. 
"  Good  luck  and  God  speed." 

The  expedition  was  a  failure  from  the  start. 
Scarcely  had  the  shallops  gone  to  sea,  than  one  of  them 
—  the  Raleigh  —  deserted  its  companions  and  put 
back.  The  rest  reached  Newfoundland,  but  the  men 
were  lawless  and  insubordinate. 

"  This  is  the  Deuce  of  a  cold  place  for  a  colony," 
they  said.    "  Home  to  Merrie  England  1 " 

Gilbert  was  forced  to  yield  to  their  angry  demands, 
and  re-embarked. 

"  Don't  sail  in  that  rattle-trap  of  a  Squirrel"  said 
his  officers  to  him.    "  She'll  founder !  " 


62        FAMOUS   PRIVATEERSMEN 

But  Sir  Humphrey  had  that  obstinacy  which  char- 
acterized General  Braddock. 

"  No :  I  will  not  forsake  the  little  company,  going 
homeward,"  said  he.    "  I'll  stick  to  my  ship." 

He  stuck  —  and  — when  they  hailed  him  one  stormy 
night,  he  said : 

"  Be  of  good  cheer,  my  friends :  we  are  as  near  to 
Heaven  by  sea  as  by  land !  " 

That  night  the  Squirrel  was  sailing  a  little  in  ad- 
vance of  the  other  ships,  and,  as  those  on  board  the 
Golden  Hind  watched  the  frail  barque,  they  saw  her 
lurch,  heave,  and  then  sink  from  view.  Thus  the  soul 
of  brave  Raleigh's  kinsman  found  a  watery  grave.  He 
had  paid  for  his  obstinacy  with  his  life. 

Raleigh  was  overwhelmed  with  grief  when  he 
learned  of  the  death  of  his  heroic  half-brother. 

"  I'll  yet  found  my  Colony,"  said  he.  "  And  I'll  go 
myself." 

This  pleased  the  jealous  courtiers  more  than  ever,  for 
they  would  now  have  him  out  of  the  way  for  all  time. 

With  his  ample  wealth,  the  indefatigable  adventurer 
found  no  difficulty  in  fitting  out  an  expedition,  and,  in 
the  year  after  the  death  of  Sir  Humphrey  Gilbert,  he 
sent  forth  two  vessels  to  explore  the  coast  of  the  Caro- 
linas. 

"  I'm  going  to  stay  at  home  and  face  my  enemies !  " 
said  the  gay  blade.  "  Again  good  luck  and  God 
Speed!" 

They  had  a  fortunate  voyage,  and,  when  they  re- 
turned, the  Captains  told  of  the  beautiful  harbors,  fine 
rivers,  magnificent  forests  and  abundance  of  game. 


SIR   WALTER  RALEIGH  6S 

The  Queen  was  delighted,  and  at  once  named  the  fair 
country  for  herself,  with  characteristic  egotism.  That 
men  might  know  that  this  fruitful  land  was  explored 
in  the  time  of  the  Virgin  Queen,  it  was  called  "  Vir- 
ginia."    Raleigh  was  wild  with  delight. 

And  the  jealous  courtiers  looked  dejected  and  sad. 

A  fleet  of  seven  vessels  —  with  one  hundred  colonists 
—  was  now  sent  to  Virginia,  under  the  command  of 
one  Grenville,  who  was  eager  to  become  suddenly  rich : 
a  disease  as  common  now  as  in  those  venturous  days. 
No  sooner  had  the  people  landed,  than  they  began  to 
treat  the  savages  with  such  harshness  and  rapacity  — 
that  they  had  to  gain  their  own  food,  as  the  natives 
would  have  nothing  to  do  with  them.  Dissensions  tore 
the  little  community  into  shreds.  So  they  were  only 
too  glad  to  return  with  the  gallant  old  sea-dog.  Sir 
Francis  Drake,  when  he  happened  that  way,  with  a 
large  amount  of  booty  which  he  had  just  taken  from 
the  Spaniards  in  the  southern  seas. 

Another  expedition  was  sent  over  by  Raleigh ;  and 
yet  another.  They  were  failures.  But  there  was  one, 
single  thing  which  was  not  a  failure.  This  was  the 
discovery  of  a  herb  called  ''  Yppowoc,"  or  tobacco,  the 
leaves  of  which  —  when  dried  —  were  smoked  by  the 
natives  in  long  pi{>es. 

Curious  Sir  Walter  had  a  jeweller  in  London  make 
him  a  silver  pipe,  after  the  fashion  of  those  used  by  the 
native  Virginians.  In  this  he  began  to  smoke  the 
tobacco,  and  soon  grew  to  like  it  very  much ;  so  much, 
indeed,  that  he  was  scarcely  ever  without  this  com- 
forter, when  enjoying  the  quiet  of  his  home. 


64        FAMOUS   PRIVATEERSMEN 

One  day  he  was  sitting  cosily  by  his  lire  with  his 
Long  Nine  in  his  mouth,  and  the  smoke  was  curhng 
gracefully  over  his  head.  Just  as  he  was  puffing  out 
a  particularly  thick  cloud,  one  of  his  servants  happened 
to  enter  the  room  with  a  tankard  of  ale,  for  the 
luncheon  table. 

"  Ye  Gods !  "  cried  he.    "  My  Master's  on  fire !  " 

Sijuashl! 

Over  Sir  Walter's  head  went  the  ale,  and  the  fright- 
ened lackey  dashed  down  the  steps. 

"H-e-l-p!  H-e-l-p!"  cried  he.  "My  Master  is 
burning  up !    H-e-l-p !  " 

But  Sir  Walter  did  not  burn  up  this  time.  Instead 
he  near  split  his  gallant  sides  with  laughing. 

Now,  Boys,  don't  smile!  'Tis  said  that  good  old 
Queen  Bess  tried,  herself,  to  smoke  a  Long  Nine.  But 
—  hush  —  *'  she  became  so  dizzy  and  ill  from  the 
effects  that  she  never  ventured  upon  the  experiment 
again!"     (Keep  this  quiet!    Very  quiet!    Will  you!) 

On  one  occasion  she  was  watching  Sir  Walter 
blowing  circles  of  smoke  over  his  head,  and  said  to 
him  — 

"Zounds!  (or  something  stronger)  Sir  Walter! 
You  are  a  witty  man ;  but  I  will  wager  that  you  can- 
not tell  me  the  weight  of  the  smoke  which  comes  from 
your  pipe  I " 

"  I  can,  indeed,"  was  the  confident  reply  of  the  gal- 
lant courtier.    "  Watch  me  closely !  " 

At  once  he  took  as  much  tobacco  as  would  fill  his 
pipe  and  exactly  weighed  it.  Having  then  smoked  it 
up,  he  —  in  like  manner  —  weighed  thQ  ashes. 


SIR   WALTER   RALEIGH  65 

"  Now,  Your  Majesty,"  said  he,  smiling.  **  The  dif- 
ference between  these  two  weights  is  the  weight  of  the 
smoke." 

And  again  Queen  Bess  remarked  "  Zounds !  "  (or 
Eftsoons!).  At  any  rate,  she  paid  the  wager,  for  — 
with  all  her  frailties  —  she  was  a  Good  Loser. 

Raleigh,  in  fact,  shortly  became  reinstated  in  Royal 
favor,  and,  when  he  aided  Drake  and  Hawkins  —  soon 
afterwards  —  in  dispersing  the  Invincible  Armada,  he 
was  again  in  the  good  graces  of  his  sovereign. 

There  was,  however,  a  pretty,  young  Maid-of-Honor 
at  court,  called  Elizabeth  Throgmorton,  and  no  sooner 
had  the  bright  eyes  of  Sir  Walter  fallen  upon  her,  than 
he  fell  in  love.  In  paying  court  to  this  amiable  lady  he 
was  compelled  to  use  great  caution  and  secrecy,  for 
jealous  Queen  Bess  watched  him  narrowly,  and  with 
suspicion.  In  spite  of  her  preference  for  Essex,  Eliza- 
beth was  quite  unwilling  that  Raleigh  —  her  less 
favored  lover  —  should  transfer  his  affections  to  an- 
other. So,  in  making  love  to  Elizabeth  Throgmorton, 
the  gay  courtier  was  compelled  to  use  the  utmost  care. 

But  Murder  (or  Love)  will  out! 

It  chanced  one  day,  that  the  Queen  discovered  what 
was  going  on  between  her  Maid-of-Honor  and  the 
cavalier.  Her  rage  knew  no  bounds.  She  berated 
Raleigh  before  her  ladies,  and  forbade  him  to  come  to 
court.  She  fiercely  commanded  the  Maid-of-Honor 
to  remain  a  prisoner  in  her  room,  and,  on  no  account 
to  see  Raleigh  again.  So  the  venturous  Knight 
turned  his  attention  once  more  to  wild  rovingf  upon  the 
sea. 


66       FAMOUS   PRIVATEERSMEN 

Now  the  jealous  courtiers  fairly  chuckled  with  glee. 
"Ha!  Ha!  Ha !"  laughed  they.  "Ho!  Ho!  Ho! 
He!  He!  He!" 

But  Sir  Walter  engaged  very  actively  in  fitting  out 
some  squadrons  to  attack  the  Spanish  ships. 

"  Egad !  I  hate  a  Spaniard !  "  he  said.  "  They  are 
my  country'^  special  enemies  and  I  intend  to  do  them 
all  the  harm  that  I  can !  " 

The  Queen  was  glad  enough  to  separate  him  from 
his  lady  love  and  not  only  consented  to  his  project, 
but  promised  to  aid  him  in  it.  Ere  long  fifteen  vessels 
were  anchored  in  the  Thames  —  all  ready  to  sail  — 
but,  before  he  set  out,  the  gallant  commander  made  up 
his  mind  that  he  would  marry  his  beloved  Maid-of- 
Honor.  It  was  not  dif^cult  to  find  a  clergyman  who 
would  splice  him  tighter  than  he  ever  spliced  a  rope 
aboard  ship.  The  deed  was  done.  He  set  sail.  All 
was  going  propitiously. 

"  ril  attack  the  Spanish  ships  in  the  harbor  of 
Seville,"  said  Raleigh.  "  Then  —  off  to  the  Spanish 
Main  and  sack  the  town  of  Panama."  He  laughed,  — 
but  what  was  that? 

Rapidly  approaching  from  the  coast  of  England 
came  a  swift  pinnace.  It  gained  upon  the  squadron 
in  spite  of  the  fact  that  all  sail  was  hoisted,  and,  at  last 
came  near  enough  to  give  Raleigh  a  signal  to  "  Heave 
to."  In  a  few  moments  her  commander  climbed 
aboard. 

"  The  Queen  has  changed  her  mind  about  your  ex- 
pedition/' said  he.  "  She  has  sent  me  —  Sir  Martin 
Frobisher  —  to  tell  you  to  come  home." 


SIR   WALTER   RALEIGH  67 

Raleigh  said  things  which  made  the  air  as  blue  as  the 
sea,  but  he  put  back  —  for  he  could  not  disobey  the 
Royal  command.     He  was  soon  at  court. 

The  Queen  was  furious  with  anger. 

"  You  have  disobeyed  my  commands/'  said  she.  "  I 
find  you  have  secretly  married  my  Maid-of -Honor. 
To  the  Tower  with  you!  To  the  dungeons  of  the 
Tower!  " 

And  all  the  jealous  courtiers  were  so  happy  that 
they  danced  a  can-can  in  the  ante  chamber. 

What  do  you  think  of  this?  Thrown  into  prison 
because  he  loved  a  Maid  and  married  her !  Nowadays 
''  all  the  World  loves  a  Lover."  In  those  times  all 
the  world  might  have  "  loved  a  Lover  "  except  Queen 
Bess,  —  and  a  number  of  courtiers  hanging  around 
within  easy  call :  They  kicked  a  Lover.  And  then  they 
all  got  together  and  said : 

"  Fine !  Fine !  Now  we've  got  him  where  he  ought 
to  be.    Ha!  Ha!   Ha!  Ho!   Ho!   Ho!" 

But  women  relent;  that  is  one  of  their  chief  char- 
acteristics. Queen  Bess  softened,  grew  luke-warm, 
finally  became  molten. 

"  Sir  Walter  Raleigh  can  go  free,"  said  she. 

The  gallant  courtier  returned  to  his  country  estate, 
where  —  with  his  wife  and  children  he  enjoyed  the 
luxuries  and  comforts  of  country  life.  And  the  jealous 
courtiers  began  to  look  strangely  sober. 

Still  the  sea  called.  The  sea  sang  its  old  song,  and, 
fired  with  the  spirit  of  adventure,  Sir  Walter  decided 
upon  another  expedition:  this  time  to  the  coast  of 
Guiana,  in  South  America,  where,  it  was  said,  "  biUets 


68        FAMOUS   PRIVATEEESMEN 

of  gold  lay  about  in  heaps,  as  if  they  were  logs  of 
wood  marked  out  to  burn."  With  a  large  fleet  at  his 
command  he  soon  started  upon  this  expedition  for 
plunder  and  for  fame.  This  time  no  Sir  Martin  Fro- 
bisher  sailed  after  him  to  bring  him  back  to  a  dungeon 
in  the  Tower  and  he  was  able  to  reach  his  destination. 

The  expedition  was  a  howling  success.  Whenever 
and  wherever  Sir  Walter  could  inflict  injury  on  the 
Spaniards,  whom  he  so  bitterly  detested,  he  did  so  with 
eagerness.  A  Spanish  ship  was  soon  seen,  chased, 
and  —  after  a  brief,  hot  fight  —  surrendered  and  was 
boarded. 

"Egad!"  cried  Raleigh.  "Here's  luck,  for  the 
cargo's  of  fire  arms.  I'll  stow  them  away  in  my  own 
vessel  and  let  the  captive  go !  " 

Proceeding  on  his  voyage,  he  not  long  afterwards 
encountered  and  captured  another  prize;  a  Flemish 
ship  sailing  homeward  with  a  cargo  of  fine  wine. 
Twenty  hogsheads  were  transferred  to  the  hold  of 
Raleigh's  ship  and  the  captured  craft  was  allowed  to 
sail  on,  —  empty. 

Things  continued  to  go  well.  The  Island  of  Trini- 
dad (off  Venezuela)  was  reached  at  last.  The  natives 
were  friendly  and  told  of  vast  deposits  of  gold  far  up 
the  river  Orinoco.  "  But  would  Raleigh  not  please 
besiege  the  Spanish  town  of  St.  Joseph  ?  "  said  they, 
"  and  rescue  some  of  their  chiefs  whom  the  Spaniards 
held  prisoners  —  in  chains.'* 

"I  always  strike  a  Spaniard  when  I  can,"  said 
Raleigh.    "  On,  men,  we'll  sack  this  proud  city ! " 

St.  Joseph  speedily  fell  into  his  hands.    The  chiefs 


SIR   WALTER   RALEIGH  69 

were  released.  They  were  so  gratified,  that  they 
paddled  him  far  up  the  river,  where  they  found  glitter- 
ing gold,  which  they  tore  out  of  rocks  with  their 
daggers.  The  Englishmen  were  delighted,  and,  col- 
lecting a  mass  of  nuggets  to  show  to  those  at  home, 
they  put  back  to  the  ships,  set  sail,  and  were  soon  in 
England  again. 

The  people  were  astonished  at  this  exploit,  but  the 
jealous  courtiers  did  all  they  could  to  deprive  Raleigh 
of  the  renown  which  was  justly  his  due. 

"  What  this  fellow  has  told  is  a  lie,"  whispered  they 
into  the  ears  of  good  Queen  Bess.  "  There  is  no 
such  place  as  Guiana.  Raleigh  has  been  down  upon 
the  coast  of  Spain  and  hidden  himself.  He  has  not 
crossed  the  Atlantic  at  all." 

Which  proves  that  no  one  can  ever  do  anything 
adventurous  without  stirring  up  the  hammers  of  the 
Envious  :  the  Little  Men.  Is  it  not  so  to-day  ?  Look 
around!  You  can  hear  the  carping  critic  at  any  time 
that  you  may  wish!  Do  something  big,  sometime. 
Then  put  your  ear  to  the  ground  and  listen! 

But  the  sea  called  for  the  fifth  time.  A  vast  English 
fleet  was  hurled  against  the  Spanish  at  Cadiz,  —  a 
great  English  fleet,  accompanied  by  an  army.  Eng- 
land was  bound  to  get  even  with  the  Spaniards  for 
daring  to  launch  the  supposedly  invincible  Armada 
against  them  —  and  Sir  Walter  eagerly  sailed  for  the 
coast  of  Spain. 

The  harbor  of  Cadiz  was  seen  to  be  fairly  jammed 
full  of  stately  galleons  and  men-of-war.  Arranged  in 
compact  rows,  close  to  shore,  just  below  the  towering 


70        FAMOUS   PRIVATEERSMEN 

and  frowning  castle  of  Cadiz;  they  were  protected, 
on  either  side,  by  fortresses,  whence  heavy  guns  peeped 
forth  to  defend  them.  There  were  nearly  sixty  large 
vessels  in  all,  four  of  which  were  galleons,  and  twenty 
of  which  were  galleys :  well-manned  and  well-armed 
with  small  cannon.  There  were  many  more  ships  than 
in  the  attacking  fleet. 

It  was  the  evening  of  June  the  20th,  1596.  The 
British  vessels  rapidly  sailed  into  the  harbor,  Raleigh 
leading,  in  the  flag-ship,  the  Water  Sprite;  behind  him 
the  Mary  Rose,  commanded  by  his  cousin.  Sir  George 
Carew;  and  the  Rainbow  under  Sir  Francis  Vere. 
All  were  eager  for  the  fray,  and  it  was  not  long  before 
their  approach  was  observed  by  the  Spanish  fleet.  In- 
stantly a  huge  galleon,  the  Saint  Philip  —  the  largest 
in  the  Spanish  Navy  —  swung  out  of  her  position,  fol- 
lowed by  the  Saint  Andrew,  second  only  to  her  in  size. 

"  They're  coming  to  meet  me ! "  cried  Raleigh  — 
joyously. 

Instead  of  that,  the  galleons  sailed  for  a  narrow 
strait  in  the  harbor  —  followed  by  the  rest  of  the 
Spanish  fleet  —  and  cast  anchor  just  under  the  stout 
fortress  of  Puntal.  They  arranged  themselves  in  close 
array  and  awaited  the  attack  of  the  English. 

The  English  fleet  anchored,  but  at  daybreak,  the 
impetuous  Raleigh  bore  down  upon  the  formidable 
mass  of  hulking  galleons.  The  sun  rays  streamed 
over  the  old,  Spanish  town,  gilding  the  pinnaces  and 
spires  of  the  churches,  shining  brightly  upon  the  flap- 
ping pennons  of  Britisher  and  Don.  The  white  sails 
flapped,  spars  creaked  and  groaned,  the  sailors  cheered. 


SIR   WALTER   RALEIGH  71 

and  —  in  a  moment  —  the  cannon  began  to  bark,  like 
wolf  hounds.    The  light  had  begun. 

Raleigh  was  the  incarnation  of  battle.  Passing 
rapidly  from  point  to  point  upon  the  deck  of  his  ves- 
sel, he  encouraged  and  urged  on  his  men,  exposed  him- 
self as  freely  as  the  rest ;  and  whenever  a  man  faltered, 
there  he  appeared  to  urge  the  faint  heart  on  with  words 
of  inspiration  and  hope. 

Roar!  Roar!  Roar!  Zoom!  Zoom!  Crash! 

The  arquebusses  spittled  and  spat ;  cannon  growled ; 
and  iron  crashed  into  solid  oak  planking. 

The  orders  were  not  to  board  until  the  fly-boats 
(long,  flat-bottomed  vessels  with  high  sterns)  came 
up,  which  were  manned  by  Dutch  allies.  For  three 
hours  the  battle  raged,  but  the  fly-boats  did  not  arrive. 
The  Earl  of  Essex  —  the  commander  of  this  expedi- 
tion —  now  ordered  his  flag-ship  to  pass  through  the 
advance  line  of  vessels,  and  make  the  way  to  the  front. 
Raleigh  was  chafing  with  rage  because  the  fly-boats 
did  not  come,  yet,  in  spite  of  the  danger  of  being  shot, 
he  jumped  into  a  light  skiff,  and  was  rowed  over  to 
the  galleon  of  Essex. 

"  ril  board  the  Saint  Philip:'  cried  he,  "  if  the  fly- 
boats  do  not  soon  arrive.  Even  though  it  be  against 
the  orders  of  the  Admiral.  For  It  is  the  same  loss  to 
burn,  or  to  sink,  and  I  must  soon  endure  one  or  the 
other." 

"Go  ahead!"  yelled  Essex,  over  the  bow.  "Ill 
second  you,  upon  my  honor !  " 

Raleigh  hastened  with  all  speed  to  the  deck  of  the 
Water  Sprite,  where  his  men  were  pounding  away  at 


72        FAMOUS   PRIVATEERSMEN 

the  Spanish  galleons  with  all  their  might  and  main. 
No  sooner  had  he  mounted  the  poop,  than  he  saw,  with 
anger,  that  two  vessels  of  his  own  squadron  had  forced 
themselves  into  a  position  in  front  of  his  own;  for 
their  commanders  wanted  to  win  first  honors  in  this 
battle  at  sea. 

Raleigh,  himself,  wished  to  have  the  honor,  just  like 
other  sea  captains  in  later  battles.  But,  —  that's  an- 
other story. 

So,  the  gallant  seaman  ran  the  Water  Sprite  between 
the  two  other  ships  and  took  up  his  position  as  leader. 
Sir  Francis  Vere  of  the  Rainbow  was  resolved  to  keep 
in  front  as  well  as  Raleigh. 

As  the  Water  Sprite  passed  him  he  slyly  cast  a  rope 
to  a  sailor,  who  tied  it  to  her  stern,  and  his  own  ves- 
sel thus  kept  abreast  of  the  lumbering  galley  of  his 
chief.  "  But,"  writes  Sir  Walter,  "  some  of  my  com- 
pany advising  me  thereof,  I  caused  the  rope  to  be  cast 
off,  and  so  Vere  fell  back  in  his  place,  where  I  guarded 
him  —  all  but  his  very  prow  —  from  the  sight  of  the 
enemy.  I  was  very  sure  that  none  would  outstart  me 
again  for  that  day." 

■  The  guns  of  the  fort  appeared  to  be  silent  and  the 
big  galleons  lay  apparently  helpless  in  the  face  of  the 
valiant  enemy.  Raleigh  moved  on,  but,  as  he  was 
about  to  clutch  his  splendid  prize,  it  escaped  him,  for 
the  Spaniards  —  finding  that  they  would  be  captured 
—  made  haste  to  run  the  Saint  Philip,  and  several  of 
her  sister  ships,  aground  on  the  sand. 

"  Blow  them  up !  "  came  the  order. 

The  Spanish  sailors  and  soldiers  came  tumbling  out 


SIR   WALTER   RALEIGH  73 

of  the  ships  into  the  sea  in  heaps  — ''  as  thick  as  if 
coals  had  been  poured  out  of  a  sack  into  many  pots  at 
once."  Then  a  terrific  roar  boomed  forth.  The  air 
was  filled  with  flying  splinters,  canvas,  iron,  and  lead. 
The  portions  of  the  galleons  were  now  floating  upon 
the  waves  and  the  water  was  alive  with  the  strug- 
gling bodies  of  the  Spaniards  as  they  desperately  en- 
deavored to  save  themselves. 

The  spectacle  was  lamentable.  Many  drowned  them- 
selves. Many,  half  burned,  leaped  into  the  water; 
while  others  hung  by  the  ropes'  ends;  by  the  ships' 
sides ;  under  the  sea,  even  to  their  lips.  "  If  any  man 
had  a  desire  to  see  Hell,  itself,"  wrote  Sir  Walter,  "  it 
was  there  most  lively  figured !  " 

Hurrah!   Hurrah!    Hurrah! 

The  English  sailors  were  cheering,  for  victory  was 
theirs,  and  of  all  the  gallant  warriors  of  that  day, 
Raleigh  had  been  the  most  persistently  daring  and 
heroic. 

"  The  Saint  Andrew's  still  afloat,  good  Sire!  "  cried 
one  of  his  sailors  at  this  moment. 

"  Then  we'll  take  her!  "  cried  Raleigh. 

She  w^as  boarded  and  captured  with  little  difficulty, 
while  yet  another  galleon  —  the  Saint  Matthew  —  fell 
into  his  hands.  These  were  the  only  vessels  of  all  that 
proud  Spanish  fleet  which  had  escaped  the  flames. 

Raleigh,  himself,  had  been  severely  wounded  in  the 
leg,  but  he  refused  to  release  the  command  of  his  ship. 
He  gave  orders  that  all  lives  should  be  spared,  and 
although  these  mandates  were  rigidly  obeyed  by  the 
English  soldiers,  the  Dutch  cruelly  slaughtered  many 


74        FAMOUS   PEIVATEERSMEN 

of  their  hapless  prisoners,  for  their  hatred  of  the 
Spaniards  was  bitter  and  savage. 

Cadiz  had  not  yet  fallen  and  Raleigh  was  determined 
to  go  on  shore  with  the  troops  and  witness  the  taking 
of  the  town,  in  spite  of  his  wound.  A  litter  was  pre- 
pared for  him  —  he  was  lowered  into  one  of  the  boats 
—  rowed  ashore,  carried  upon  the  shoulders  of  some  of 
his  faithful  soldiers,  and  witnessed  the  furious  strug- 
gle which  now  ensued.  Cadiz  fell.  Although  the  lives 
of  the  people  were  spared ;  the  castle,  fortifications  and 
the  greater  part  of  the  town  itself,  were  burned  and 
demolished.  If  you  go  there,  to-day,  you  will  still 
find  the  marks  of  this  great  and  stirring  strife. 

There  was  nothing  left  but  to  put  the  Spanish  pris- 
oners aboard  the  galleons,  collect  the  plunder,  and  set 
sail  for  England.  When  the  fleet  again  swung  into  the 
little  harbor  of  Plymouth  it  was  received  by  the  people 
with  wildest  enthusiasm  and  delight.  All  England 
rang  with  the  praise  of  the  valor  and  courage  of  her 
heroes,  for  Spain  had  been  stripped  of  her  ability  to 
injure  her  English  rival  and  England's  power  was 
supreme  upon  the  sea.  Raleigh  and  his  comrades  had 
done  this,  —  and  the  descendants  of  Raleigh  and  his 
comrades  have  continued  to  uphold  the  supremacy. 
Hurrah  for  Raleigh! 

But  how  about  those  jealous  courtiers  ?  They  were 
still  around  —  Oh,  yes!  —  And  Raleigh  was  greeted 
at  court  as  coldly  as  when  he  had  departed  with  the 
fleet.  He  had  been  deprived  of  his  office  of  Captain 
of  the  Queen's. Guard,  and  even  his  bravery  at  Cadiz 
did  not  win  this  back  for  him.    Nor  did  he  receive  any 


SIR    WALTER    RALEIGH  75 

of  the  spoil  which  had  been  won  by  himself  and  his 
comrades.  Even  Queen  Bess  was  angry  because  her 
share  of  the  booty  taken  from  Cadiz  was  not  as  great 
as  she  had  hoped  for. 

"  What  the  Generals  have  got,"  wrote  Sir  Walter, 
"  I  know  least.  For  my  own  part,  I  have  got  a  game 
leg,  and  am  deformed.  I  have  received  many  good 
words  and  exceedingly  kind  and  regardful  usage ;  but 
I  have  possession  of  naught  but  poverty  and  pain." 

Not  long  afterwards  the  old  Queen  was  persuaded 
to  write  Sir  Walter  to  come  to  court,  and  thus  he 
and  his  wife,  whom  Elizabeth  had  also  forgiven,  ap- 
peared daily  in  the  brilliant  throng  which  clustered  in 
the  halls  and  corridors  of  the  Royal  Palace.  He  was 
restored  to  his  old  office  of  Captain  of  the  Queen's 
Guard  and  rode  forth  again  in  all  the  splendor  of  his 
uniform,  at  the  side  of  the  sovereign. 

The  rest  of  Sir  Walter's  life  can  be  briefly  narrated. 
With  Essex  he  took  part  in  a  successful  expedition  to 
the  Azores,  where  they  captured  many  ships,  and  with 
him  divided  much  booty  and  fame.  But  Essex  became 
too  ambitious  and  started  a  conspiracy  to  place  himself 
upon  the  throne  of  England.  It  was  a  failure.  He 
was  captured  by  the  Queen's  soldiers  —  a  part  under 
Sir  Walter  himself  —  was  tried,  and  executed  for  High 
Treason. 

Queen  Bess  soon  died  and  was  succeeded  by  a  man 
who  disliked  Sir  Walter  from  the  start.  This  was 
James  the  First  of  Scotland  —  a  "dour"  fellow  — 
who  charged  the  valorous  knight  with  treason,  for  it 
was  alleged  that  he  had  conspired,  with  Lord  Cobham, 


76        FAMOUS   PRIVATEERSMEN 

to  place  the  youthful  Arabella  Stuart  upon  the  throne. 
He  was  tried,  convicted,  and  thrown  into  the  Tower, 
where  he  lived  for  twelve  long,  tedious  years.  Think 
of  it!  A  fellow  of  his  venturesome  and  restless  spirit 
forced  to  remain  in  a  dungeon-keep  for  such  a  time! 
Weep  for  brave  Sir  Walter !  This  was  fine  treatment 
for  a  patriot! 

But  the  jealous  courtiers  did  not  weep.  Oh  no! 
They  laughed. 

When  gallant  Sir  Walter  was  thrown  into  the  Tower 
(for  he  had  not  plotted  against  the  King)  he  was  a 
hale  and  stalwart  cavalier  of  fifty-two.  He  was  re- 
leased —  after  twelve  years  —  when  his  hair  and  beard 
were  grizzled,  his  face  worn  and  wrinkled,  his  body 
somewhat  bent,  and  his  features  grave  and  sorrowful. 
With  what  tearful  joy  he  clasped  to  his  breast  his  ever 
faithful  wife  and  his  two  sons!  At  sixty-four  his 
brave  spirit  was  still  unshaken ;  his  ardent  and  restless 
ambition  was  as  keen  as  ever. 

He  went  forth  with  the  sentence  of  death  still  hang- 
ing over  his  head;  for  King  James,  although  giving 
a  grudging  consent  to  his  release,  had  refused  to  par- 
don him.  And  he  went  forth  with  the  understanding 
that  he  should  lead  an  expedition  to  the  coast  of  Guiana 
in  South  America;  there  to  attack  the  Spaniards  and 
gain  plunder,  gold,  and  jewels.  If  successful  he  was 
to  go  free.  If  non-successful,  he  was  to  suffer  punish- 
ment —  perhaps  death ! 

The  expedition  was  a  failure.  The  Spaniards  and 
natives  were  well  aware  of  his  coming,  for  'tis  said  that 
King  James,  himself,  sent  them  news  of  the  expedition. 


SIR   WALTER   RALEIGH  77 

"  If  I  go  home  it's  off  with  my  head,"  said  Sir  Wal- 
ter.   "  But  I'll  risk  it." 

Don't  you  think  if  you  had  been  Sir  Walter,  instead 
of  sailing  to  England  where  you  knew  that  a  heads- 
man's axe  awaited  you,  you  would  have  coasted  by 
the  shores  of  the  Chesapeake  Bay  and  dropped  off 
quietly  where  is  the  home  of  the  canvas-back  and  the 
terrapin !  Just  stepped  into  one  of  the  jolly-boats  and 
peacefully  drifted  ashore  on  a  dark  night  ? 

I  think  that  you  would  have  been  strongly  inclined 
to  do  so,  —  but  you  are  not  Sir  Walter  Raleigh.  He 
was  a  lion-hearted  adventurer. 

Opportunity  after  opportunity  came  to  him  to  escape 
to  the  shores  of  France.  He  let  them  go  by,  but,  when 
he  found  that  his  enemies  demanded  his  trial  for 
treason,  he  thought  it  high  time  to  get  away.  He 
learned  that  a  French  envoy  had  arranged  to  get  him  to 
France  and  had  a  barque  for  this  purpose.  A  certain 
Captain  King  had  found  a  small  boat  commanded  by 
one  of  Sir  Walter's  old  boatmen,  which  lay  at  Tilbury 
awaiting  his  orders.  It  was  arranged  by  Raleigh's 
guard  —  one  Stukeley  —  that  he  should  be  rowed  to 
the  little  lugger  on  the  evening  of  Sunday,  August  the 
Qth,  1618.  The  latter  was  sent  up  the  Thames  river 
to  Gravesend. 

At  the  hour  designated,  Raleigh,  Captain  King, 
Stukeley  and  his  son  Hart,  with  a  page,  jumped  into 
two  small  wherries  in  order  to  row  the  lugger.  They 
had  just  shoved  off,  when  keen  Sir  Walter  saw  another 
boat  push  out  from  the  bank  and  follow  them. 

"  How's  this?  "  said  he  to  Stukeley. 


78        FAMOUS   PRIVATEERSMEN 

But  silent  Stukeley  did  not  answer. 

The  boat  rowed  fast,  but  the  pursuing  craft  moved 
with  equal  speed.  The  tide  was  singing  and  gurgling 
in  a  mad  flow,  and  it  became  doubtful  whether  the 
wherries  could  reach  Gravesend  under  the  protection 
of  darkness,  for  day  was  breaking,  and  the  whirhng 
water  made  progress  very  slow. 

At  last  —  seeing  that  they  could  not  get  away  — 
the  shallops  were  forced  to  turn  about  and  retrace 
their  passage.  The  pursuing  boat  swung,  also  —  like 
a  shadow  of  the  first.  Sir  Walter's  heart  beat  tumultu- 
ously. 

When  the  fugitives  reached  Greenwich  —  Stukeley 
stood  up  and  appeared  in  his  true  colors.  Laying  a 
hand  upon  the  shoulder  of  faithful  Captain  King,  he 
cried  — 

"'  I  arrest  you  in  the  name  of  our  Monarch,  James 
First!" 

Raleigh  looked  around  in  anger  and  dismay. 

"  Stukeley,"  he  said  with  heat,  "  you  are  a  trait Vous 
cur.    These  actions  will  not  turn  out  to  your  credit !  " 

But  the  knave  laughed  derisively,  —  so  derisively 
that  the  common  people  dubbed  him  "  Sir  Judas 
Stukeley."     And  it  well  suited  him.     Didn't  it? 

The  boatmen  rowed  directly  to  the  Tower  and  the 
boat  which  had  pursued  the  wherries  —  which  con- 
tained a  courtier  named  Herbert  (to  whom  Stukeley 
had  betrayed  the  projected  escape)  —  followed  them 
close.  The  soldiers  in  her  (for  they  had  been  well 
hidden)  escorted  the  dejected  Sir  Walter  to  the  grim 
walls  of  the  dungeon. 


SIR   WALTER   RALEIGH  79 

There  was  now  no  hope  for  that  gallant  adventurer : 
the  man  had  brought  honor  and  renown  to  England. 
He  was  tried  for  Treason :   condemned :   executed. 

As  he  stood  waiting  for  the  axe  to  fall,  he  said : 

"  I  have  many  sins  for  which  to  beseech  God's 
pardon.  For  a  long  time  my  course  was  a  course  of 
vanity.  I  have  been  a  seafaring  man,  a  soldier,  and 
a  courtier;  and,  in  the  temptations  of  the  least  of 
these  there  is  enough  to  overthrow  a  good  mind  and 
a  good  man.  I  die  in  the  faith  professed  by  the  Church 
of  England.  I  hope  to  be  saved,  and  to  have  my  sins 
washed  away  by  the  precious  blood  and  merits  of  our 
Saviour,  Jesus  Christ." 

A  quick  shudder  ran  through  the  multitude  when 
Sir  Walter  had  ceased  to  live,  and  many  groaned  aloud 
at  the  horrible  sight.  One  stout  yeoman  cried  out 
angrily,  "  We  have  not  had  such  another  head  to  be 
cut  off." 

The  crowd  separated  slowly,  muttering  and  crying 
out  against  the  enemies  of  the  valiant  man ;  while  his 
friends,  who  were  present,  parted  with  tears  coursing 
down  their  cheeks. 

And  the  jealous  courtiers  said :  "  Magnificent!  "  It 
was  now  their  turn  to  shout.    And  they  did  it,  too. 

So,  you  see,  Sir  Walter  Raleigh's  patriotism  was 
paid  for  by  death.  The  trouble  with  him  was,  he 
was  too  much  of  a  man. 

Nowadays  —  when  a  soldier  or  sailor  does  some- 
thing for  England  —  they  give  him  a  Hip!  Hip! 
Hurray ! 


80       FAMOUS   PRIVATEERSMEN 

He  is  appreciated.  He  is  presented  with  titles, 
honors,  and  a  warm  reception. 

Then,  when  a  man  did  something  for  England,  those 
'in  power  gave  him  the  cold  shoulder;  the  icy  stare. 

That's  the  reason  why  England's  sons  will  do  some- 
thing for  her  now.  If  she  had  kept  treating  them  as 
she  did  Sir  Walter  Raleigh  she  wouldn't  have  many 
of  them  around  when  it  came  to  a  fight.  And,  some 
day,  she'll  need  them  all! 

So  when  a  fellow  does  something  really  great,  don't 
greet  him  with  frozen  silence.  Cheer!  He  needs  it! 
Besides,  —  it  won't  hurt  you! 

Give  a  tiger  and  three  times  three! 

THE   VANISHED    SAILORS 

Say,  sailors,  what's  happened  to  young  Bill  Jones? 
Jones  of  Yarmouth;    the  bright-cheeked  boy? 
Jones  who  could  handle  a  boat  like  a  man, 
Jones,  who  would  grapple  a  smack  like  a  toy? 

"Fell  o'er  the  sea-end  with  Raleigh.     Ahoy!** 

Well,  sea-dogs,  where's  Thompson  of  Yarmouthport  dock? 
The  chap  who  could  outwit  old  Hawkins,  they  say, 
The  man  with  th'  knowledge  of  charts  and  of  reefs, 
There  wasn't  his  equal  from  Prawle  to  Torquay. 

''Fell  o'er  the  sea-end  with  Raleigh,  to-day!" 

Where's  Rixey  of  Hampton ;   Smith  of  Rexhill? 

Who'd  coasted  and  traded  from  London  to  Ryde, 

Huggins  and  Muggins,  all  seamen  of  worth, 

Who  could  jibe  and  could  sail,  sir,  when  combers  were  wide? 

"Fell  o'er  the  sea-end  with  Raleigh.    Last  tide! " 


SIR  WALTER  RALEIGH 


81 


Well,  seamen,  when  that  day  shall  come  near, 

When  the  salt  sea  is  moved  from  its  bed. 

Some  will  there  be,  who  can  give  us  the  news. 

Of  all  that  brave  band,  whom  Adventure  has  led 

To 

"  Fall  o'er  the  sea-end  with  Raleigh,  'tis  said  I " 


Such  is  the  man, 

Whom  neither  shape  nor  danger  can  dismay. 
Nor  thought  of  tender  happiness  betray; 
Who,  not  content  that  worth   stands   fast, 
Looks  forward,  persevering  to  the  last, 
From  good  to  better,  daily  self-surpassed." 

—  Ballads  of  the  Day. 


w 


JEAN  BART 

THE  SCOURGE  OF  THE  DUTCH 

(1650-1702) 


As  long  as  selfishness  remains  a  Human  Passion,  —  Warfare 
will  continue. 


JEAN    BART 

THE    SCOURGE    OF    THE   DUTCH 

(1650 -1702) 

"'What   means   that   canvas,    Skipper?     It's   bearing   down   to 

port, 
And  it  drives  a  blackish  barqtientine,  with  every  topsail  taut, 
There're  guns  upon  her  poop  deck.     There're  cannon  near  her 

bow, 
And  the  bugler's  bloomin'  clarion,  it  shrills  a  how-de-row?* 
The  skipper  took  a  peep  at  her,  his  face  turned  ashen  pale, 
His  jaw  began  to  tremble,  and  his  knees  began  to  fail, 
As  the  flag  of  France  swung  to  the  breeze  and  fluttered  without 

check, 
*  Jean  Bart ! '  he  gurgled  weakly,  and  fainted  on  the  deck." 

—  Rhymes  of  The  Dutch  Channel  Fleet. — 1676. 

THE  good  ship  Cochon  Gras  boiled  along  off  the 
coast  of  Normandy  under  a  full  spread  of 
canvas,  for  the  breeze  was  light,  and  was  from 
the  southward.  A  boy  of  sixteen  stood  at  the  helm. 
He  was  well  bronzed  by  exposure  to  the  elements; 
was  sturdy  and  strong.  His  dark  hair  waved  luxuri- 
antly about  a  face  in  which  keenness  and  shrewdness 
were  easily  to  be  seen.  His  name  was  Jean  Bart  and 
he  had  been  bom  at  Dunkirk  in  France. 

The  Captain  of  the  Cochon  Gras  strode  about  upon 
the  deck  below.  He  was  in  an  evil  mood  and  his 
voice  showed  his  ill  feeling. 

''  Put  the  helm  over !  "  he  shouted  to  the  steersman, 

86 


86        FAMOUS   PRIVATEERSMEN 

"  Don't  you  see  that  your  sails  aren't  half  full !  Boy, 
will  you  never  learn !  " 

Jean  Bart  obeyed. 

"  Very  good,  my  Captain !  "  said  he.  "  Very  good, 
my  Monsieur  Valbue." 

And,  at  this,  the  captain  scowled,  for  he  was  in  a 
beastly  temper. 

"  I  am  glad  that  you  act  quickly,"  said  he.  "  You 
know  nothing.  By  acting  quickly  you  will  learn  a 
thing  or  two.  Tiens!  Be  speedy!  Be  very  quick! 
Be  like  the  Bishop  of  Oleron !  " 

He  smiled  and  lurched  against  the  rail. 

"  Ah,  this  good  prelate  was  a  true  seaman,"  said 
he.  "  He  knew  the  tides  like  a  mackerel.  He  knew  as 
much  as  I  do,  myself,  and  that  is  saying  a  good  deal." 

Jean  Bart  chuckled  at  the  vanity  of  Monsieur 
Valbue. 

"  The  good  Bishop  was  standing  on  the  rocks  upon 
a  stormy  evening,"  continued  the  captain,  "  when 
he  saw  some  fisher  boats  making  for  the  harbor.  One 
of  them  was  bearing  too  close  to  the  shore.  One  of 
them  was  going  to  go  upon  the  rocks.  One  of  them 
was  steered  by  a  poor  fellow  who  knew  neither  the 
reefs  nor  the  shoals.  *  Voila!  *  cried  the  good  bishop. 
*Voila!  I  will  save  this  dull-witted  sailor.'  And, 
forthwith,  what  do  you  think  that  he  did, — ?" 

A  small  knot  of  seamen  had,  by  this  time,  collected 
around  the  talkative  captain.  They  all  shook  their 
heads. 

"Fools,"  cried  Captain  Valbue.  "Fools!  Why, 
he  strode  into  the  sea,  of  course.    Being  a  pure  man 


JEAN    BART. 


JEAN   BART  87 

of  God  and  a  member  of  the  true  church,  he  walked 
upon  the  surface  of  the  water.  The  boat  coming  in 
was  manned  by  Huguenots,  by  unbeHevers,  mark 
you!  By  fellows  who  had  neither  the  sense  nor  the 
grace  to  be  members  of  the  true  church.  They  could 
not  walk  upon  the  water.  Oh!  No!  But  the  good 
Bishop  he  walked  as  easily  as  a  stormy  petrel,  for  he 
was  a  man  of  God.  And,  as  he  reached  the  boat  he 
made  the  sign  of  the  cross,  saying,  '  Beware  of  the 
rocks  which  you  sail  down  upon!  Bear  off  to  the 
left!  When  you  see  the  red  buoy,  bear  to  the  right, 
and  then  come  home  by  keeping  your  bow  pointed  for 
the  spire  of  the  big  church ! '  And  they  did  so.  They 
were  saved  by  the  good  Bishop,  whom  I  know  well. 
As  for  me.  I  would  have  let  the  foolish  Huguenots 
get  their  just  deserts.  It  would  have  been  one  heretic 
less  and  good  riddance." 

At  this  one  of  the  seamen  was  plainly  angered. 

"Piff!"  said  he.  "Piff!"  That  was  all.  But 
Monsieur  Valbue  had  noticed  it  and  Monsieur  Valbue 
grew  angry  in  a  moment.  Seizing  a  half-empty  cider 
mug,  from  which  he  had  been  drinking,  he  hurled  it 
at  the  head  of  the  fellow  who  had  made  the  remark. 

*'  You  dog  of  a  Huguenot !  "  he  roared. 

The  seaman  dodged,  and  the  cider  mug  spun  into 
the  planks  of  a  jolly  boat.  Then  he  stepped  forward 
and  said, 

"  Captain  Valbue,  the  Laws  of  Oleron,  under  which 
we  sail,  say  that  you  cannot  and  must  not  strike  a 
seaman  with  any  missile.  I,  Lanoix,  will  strike  back 
if  you  hit  me." 


88        FAMOUS   PRIVATEERSMEN 

But  Monsieur  Valbue  was  like  a  bubbling  tea-pot. 
Seizing  a  hand-spike,  he  shot  it  out  at  the  man  who 
knew  the  law. 

*'  The  Laws  of  Oleron  allow  me  just  one  blow," 
blubbered  Captain  Valbue.  ''  Just  as  the  laws  of 
England  allow  each  dog  one  bite." 

As  luck  would  have  it,  he  missed  his  shot. 

Lanoix  leaped  over  the  iron  rail  which  separated 
the  forecastle  from  the  after  part  of  the  vessel.  Then 
he  turned  around. 

"  Follow  me  here,  you  coward !  "  he  shouted  to  the 
captain,  "  and  I  will  have  the  right  to  crack  you 
through  the  middle.  Consult  the  Laws  of  Oleron  un- 
der which  we  sail  and  see  if  they  do  not  back  me  up!  " 

"  The  laws  be  blowed !  "  yelled  Monsieur  Valbue, 
now  beside  himself  with  rage.  And,  leaping  across 
the  rail  he  struck  the  Huguenot  two  sturdy  blows  in 
the  face. 

Jean  Bart,  meanwhile,  steered  the  ship :  looked  on ; 
and  said  nothing. 

R-i-i-p!  There  was  a  flash,  a  blow,  and  a  cry  of 
pain.  A  large,  keen  knife  was  clenched  in  the  strong 
right  hand  of  Lanoix,  and  the  captain  was  running 
red,  with  a  deep  gash  in  his  shoulder. 

"  Down  with  the  Mutineer!  Down  with  the  dog! " 
came  from  the  throats  of  the  members  of  the  crew 
who  had  clustered  about  the  two  enraged  men,  smiling 
at  the  little  affair. 

With  a  rush  they  were  upon  the  Huguenot;  had 
forced  him  to  the  deck;  and  wrested  the  knife  from 
his  hand.     But,  before  it  was  wrenched  from  his  fist, 


JEAN    BART  89 

the  blade  had  pierced  the  body  of  a  seaman  and  had 
felled  him  to  the  boarding. 

"  Bring  up  the  Laws  of  Oleron,"  cried  Captain 
Valbue,  when  the  Huguenot  had  been  secured. 
"  Bring  up  the  Laws  of  Oleron  from  my  cabin,  and 
let  us  see  whether  or  no  I  was  right,  when  I  struck 
this  prating  Lanoix !  "  * 

The  cabin-boy  dove  below  and  was  soon  again  upon 
the  deck. 

"  The  law  shall  be  read,"  cried  the  captain.  "  Out 
with  it !  " 

Now,  aboard  the  vessel  was  one  Antoine  Sauret  — 
a  good,  old  boatswain  —  a  friend  of  the  father  of 
Jean  Bart,  and  a  courageous  man. 

*'  The  law  shows  you  to  be  in  the  wrong,"  said  he. 

"  Yes,"  cried  Jean  Bart  from  the  wheel,  which  he 
had  not  left.     "  You  were,  and  are,  in  the  wrong." 
Monsieur  Valbue  glowered  at  them. 

"  I  am  the  law,"  said  he.    "  Is  this  not  my  vessel?  " 

"  But  the  right  is  on  his  side,"  interrupted  the  good 
Antoine  Sauret. 

"  You  wait  and  see  what  I  do  to  this  cur  of  a 
Huguenot,"  snarled  Captain  Valbue.  "  And  no  more 
talk  from  either  you  or  Jean  Bart.  Hear!  Six  out 
of  eight  of  the  crew  agree  that  this  Lanoix  has 
wounded  me  and  has  slain  one  of  his  ship-mates-^ 
without  proper  provocation  —  I  will  now  fix  him." 

And  this  he  did  in  the  most  approved  manner. 

Lashing  his  victim's  arm  to  a  sharp  sword  tied  to 
the  windlass,  he  knocked  the  unfortunate  Lanoix 
upon  the  deck  with  a  hand-spike.    Then,  tying  him  — 


90        FAMOUS   PRIVATEERSMEN 

still  alive  —  to  the  dead  sailor  whom  the  Huguenot 
had  killed  when  the  crew  rushed  upon  him,  —  he  cried 
out: 

"  Throw  'em  both  to  the  fishes !  " 

They  were  seized. 

"  One !  Two !  Three !  Heave  Away !  "  sounded 
from  the  throats  of  the  Frenchmen. 

Lanoix  and  the  dead  sailor  spun  out  above  the  blue 
water.  A  splash.  A  gurgle  of  white  foam,  and  the 
Atlantic  closed  above  them. 

Seamen  —  you  witness  —  were  brutes,  in  these 
merry  days  of  privateering.  But  hear  the  sequel  of 
the  gruesome  story! 

Jean  Bart  and  the  good  boatswain  Sauret  had,  from 
that  moment,  no  high  opinion  of  the  Laws  of  Oleron. 
So,  when  the  vessel  touched  at  Calais,  upon  the  coast 
of  France,  they  walked  up  to  the  captain,  saying: 

"  Sir.  We  wish  to  leave  you !  We  cannot  sail  any 
longer  beneath  your  orders." 

The  brutal  Valbue  scowled. 

"  Go!  "  said  he.     "  And  good  riddance." 

But  when  the  circumstances  of  the  death  of  the  two 
men  were  reported  to  the  authorities,  the  captain  was 
tried. 

"  The  Law  of  Oleron,"  said  the  Judge  to  him, 
"  acquits  you,  for  the  Huguenot  sailor  was  in  the 
wrong  to  draw  his  knife,  when  you  struck  him  only 
with  your  fists.  But  it  is  a  bad  law  and  must  be 
changed." 

Here  he  turned  to  young  Jean  Bart  and  the  good 
Sauret. 


JEAN   BART  91 

"As  for  you  two,"  said  he,  *'  I  most  highly  com- 
mend you  for  protesting  against  the  brutaHty  of  this 
captain.  Would  that  all  the  sailors  of  France  were 
as  good  as  both  of  you.  If  they  were,  there  would 
be  less  trouble  aboard  ship.    Again  I  commend  you !  " 

So  —  feeling  very  happy,  indeed  —  young  Jean 
Bart  went  out  into  the  street.  Though  only  sixteen 
he  had  been  right  in  his  attempt  to  save  the  life  of 
poor  Lanoix.  Good  for  young  Bart!  Hats  off  to 
the  sailor  lad  of  sixteen  who  was  more  merciful  than 
the  cruel  Law  of  Oleron !  And  this  brutal  set  of  rules 
was  soon  changed  to  the  Maritime  Code  of  France, 
which  gave  seamen  some  right  to  defend  themselves 
against  the  attacks  of  rough  and  overbearing  captains. 
Thus  Jean  Bart  had  started  the  ball  rolling  in  the  right 
direction.  Again  hats  off  to  the  doughty,  young 
Frenchman ! 

Not  long  after  this  event  the  Dutch  fell  out  with 
the  English  and  began  a  smart  little  war.  Jean  Bart 
hastened  to  the  scene  of  action,  enrolled  in  the  Dutch 
cause,  and  fought  with  them  for  five  full  years.  Then 
the  Dutch  began  to  make  war  upon  the  French  (in 
1672),  but  this  was  too  much  for  the  patriotic  senti- 
ments of  the  youthful  volunteer. 

"  Ah !  "  said  he.  "  When  my  own  people  are  at- 
tacked, I  must  hasten  to  their  assistance.  The  Dutch 
have  paid  me  well  'tis  true,  but  now  I  scorn  their  gold. 
Vive  la  France !  " 

So  saying,  he  returned  to  Dunkirk,  speedily  found 
employment,  and  went  to  sea  again  —  not  in  a  man- 
of-war,  but  in  a  privateer.     He  was  now  four-and- 


92        FAMOUS   PEIVATEERSMEN 

twenty;  was  wiry,  tough,  and  well  used  to  battling 
both  with  men  and  with  the  elements.  The  boat  he 
sailed  in  mounted  only  two  guns  and  had  a  crew  of 
thirty-six.  She  was  named  after  a  famous  personage 
of  Biblical  history:  King  David,  and  she  conducted 
herself  as  skilfully  as  did  that  ancient  monarch,  for 
was  not  Jean  Bart  at  the  helm? 

Cruising  out  upon  the  treacherous  waters  of  the 
North  Sea,  it  was  not  long  before  a  vessel  was  sighted 
that  was  of  such  small  tonnage  that  Bart  was  not 
afraid  to  give  chase.  He  slapped  on  all  canvas,  put 
his  helm  hard  over,  and  steered  for  the  dancing  bit  of 
canvas.  The  King  David  was  a  swift  sailer,  and  soon 
the  bow-gun  spoke  from  the  deck  of  the  French  pri- 
vateer, sending  a  challenging  shot  whistling  close  to 
the  stern  of  the  stranger,  who  flew  the  flag  of  the 
States  General  (the  Dutch  Republic)  with  which  the 
French  were  now  at  war. 

The  stranger  did  not  relish  the  challenge,  and  came 
to  in  a  hurry,  while  her  flag  fluttered  weakly  to  the 
deck. 

"  She's  ours !  "  cried  Jean  Bart,  gleefully.  "  And 
without  a  fight.     Hurray  for  the  life  of  a  privateer !  " 

Quickly  ranging  alongside,  the  stranger  was  seen 
to  be  a  valuable  prize,  laden  with  tea,  spices,  and  cot- 
ton. She  was  manned  by  a  small  crew  and  sent  to 
port. 

"  Now  oflF  for  other  luck !  "  cried  Jean  Bart. 

Luck  was  with  him,  too.  In  four  months  cruising 
in  the  English  Channel,  near  the  Belgian  coast,  he  cap- 
tured six  prizes ;  all  without  any  fighting.    The  Dutch 


JEAN  BART  93 

trading  vessels  of  those  days  must  have  been  without 
guns  and  poorly  manned,  for  it  should  have  been  easy 
to  stand  off  a  crew  of  but  thirty-six,  with  only  two 
cannon  aboard.  Jean  Bart  —  you  may  be  sure  —  was 
well  satisfied.  He  was  now  rich,  quite  famous,  and 
keen  for  further  adventure. 

So  well  did  the  owners  of  the  privateer  King  David 
think  of  him,  that  they  now  put  him  in  charge  of  a 
larger  vessel  named  La  Royale,  carrying  about  eighty 
men  and  ten  guns. 

"  Go  out  and  win ! "  cried  the  chief  owner  of  this 
privateer.  "  Jean  Bart,  you  are  followed  by  the  best 
blood  of  France.     Your  men  are  all  from  Dunkirk!  " 

And  Jean  Bart  smiled. 

''Watch  me!"  said  he. 

Cruising  near  the  coast  of  Holland  in  company 
with  a  small  French  gun-boat,  he  fell  in  with  a  man- 
of-war  —  the  Esperance  —  carrying  twelve  guns  and 
about  one  hundred  and  twenty  men. 

"  Now  we'll  have  a  real  fight !  "  cried  the  youthful 
French  commander  as  he  cleared  decks  for  action. 
"  Men,  see  to  it  that  your  swords  are  sharpened  for 
there  may  be  some  boarding!  " 

Then  he  signalled  to  the  little  French  gun-boat  to 
follow  him  and  give  battle.  This  ally  carried  about 
a  hundred  men  and  six  cannon. 

"Poof!     Poof!" 

The  heavy  guns  of  the  Dutchman  were  the  first  to 
speak  and  they  barked  away  like  fat  Newfoundland 
watch-dogs. 

"Poof!    Poof?    B-o-o-m!" 


94        FAMOUS   PRIVATEERSMEN 

Jean  Bart  reserved  his  fire  until  within  about 
seventy-five  yards  and  then  he  gave  the  command, 

"Fire  away!     Aim  low!     And  try  to  hull  her!" 

A  sheet  of  flame  sprang  ifrom  the  ten  guns  of  La 
Royale  and  a  splitting  of  boards  and  crackling  of 
splinters  showed  that  the  iron  missiles  had  punctured 
the  stout  sides  of  the  Esperance. 

"Pop!     Pop!     Crash!" 

The  other  French  vessel  now  threw  her  lead  into 
the  stern  of  the  defender  of  the  flag  of  the  States  Gen- 
eral and  her  mizzen-mast  was  seen  to  rock  like  an 
unfastened  May  pole. 

"  Whow !  " 

The  Esperance  was  not  slow  in  answering  back  and 
her  twelve  guns  spat  like  leopards  in  the  brush.  She 
filled  away  and  bore  towards  the  land,  but  the  French 
gun-boat  saw  this  move  and  checkmated  it. 

Sailing  across  her  bow,  the  Frenchman  raked  her 
fore  and  aft,  while  the  rub-a-dub-dub  of  Jean  Bart's 
guns  went  drumming  against  her  starboard  side. 
Crash!  Crash!  Crash!  Her  boards  were  split,  her 
mizzen-mast  was  swaying,  and  her  rigging  was  near 
cut  in  two.  Men  were  falling  fast  and  two  of  her 
guns  had  blown  up  and  were  rendered  useless. 

"  Surrender !  "  came  a  sharp  hail  from  the  lusty 
throat  of  Jean  Bart,  and,  as  he  spoke,  a  perfect  hail 
of  grape  came  from  his  French  ally,  now  creeping  up 
to  port  for  a  chance  to  grapple  and  board. 

"  What  can  I  do  ?  "  sighed  the  stout,  Dutch  com- 
mander, turning  to  one  of  his  lieutenants.  "  Boy,  haul 
down  our  flag !  " 


JEAN   BART  96 

So  down  came  the  emblem  of  the  States  General 
amidst  ringing  cheers  from  the  throats  of  the  fol- 
lowers of  Jean  Bart.  They  had  won  a  notable 
victory. 

When  the  Esperance  was  towed  and  half-sailed  into 
Dunkirk  harbor,  old  Antoine  Sauret  was  there. 

''  Ah,  my  friends,"  said  he,  ''  I  always  told  you  that 
my  boy,  Jean  Bart,  would  make  a  great  name  for  him- 
self. Three  times  three  for  the  great  privateer  of 
Dunkirk !  " 

And  all  the  bystanders  joined  in  right  willingly. 

Not  long  after  this  event,  our  hero's  ship  was  lying 
in  the  harbor  of  Bergen  in  Sweden.  The  captain  of 
an  English  vessel  met  him  on  shore,  and,  after  having 
a  chat  with  him,  remarked: 

''  I  hear  that  you  have  quite  a  reputation  for  fight- 
ing your  ship.  I,  too,  am  a  sea  warrior  and  would 
like  to  have  a  little  affair  with  you.  My  own  ves- 
sel is  of  about  the  same  tonnage  as  yours,  so  that 
we  could  meet  upon  even  terms.  Will  you  join 
me?" 

"  I  would  be  delighted,"  answered  the  war-like  Jean 
Bart.  "  If  you  wait  two  days  I  will  be  ready  for  you 
and  will  fight  you  three  miles  ofiF  the  coast.  Mean- 
while I  must  lie  here  and  take  on  some  stores  which 
are  much  needed  by  both  men  and  guns." 

The  Englishman  smiled. 

"  You  are  a  man  after  my  own  heart,"  said  he. 
"  Good-by  until  we  meet  in  battle." 

Three  days  after  this,  Jean  Bart  sent  a  boy  to  the 
English  vessel  with  a  note  for  the  captain.     It  ran: 


96        FAMOUS   PRIVATEERSMEN 

"  I  am  ready  to  fight  you  to-morrow.  Meet  me 
three  miles  beyond  the  breakwater  and  may  the  best 
man  win.     Until  then  —  good  luck. 

"  Yours  for  battle, 

"Jean  Bart." 

The  boy  came  back  bearing  a  return  missive  from 
the  Englishman,  who  wrote : 

"  Monsieur  Bart  :  I  am  delighted  to  learn  that 
you  want  to  fight  me,  and  will  do  so.  You  are  indeed 
a  brave  man.  But  —  before  we  go  for  each  other's 
throats  —  pray  let  us  breakfast  together.  Will  you 
therefore  take  your  morning  meal  with  me,  to-mor- 
row, in  my  own  cabin,  aboard  my  ship  ?  I  shall  expect 
you. 

"  Yours  to  count  on, 

"  MiDDLETON." 

"  I  do  not  want  to  accept,  but  I  will,"  mused  Cap- 
tain Bart.  "  These  English  fellows,  are  far  too  po- 
lite." 

So,  next  morning,  he  was  rowed  to  the  British  ves- 
sel and  was  soon  breakfasting  with  his  red-faced  oppo- 
nent. 

After  the  meal  the  Frenchman  lighted  his  pipe, 
took  a  few  puflFs,  and  said : 

"  Monsieur,  I  have  greatly  enjoyed  this  peaceful 
repast.  But  it  is  now  time  for  me  to  go  and  sharpen 
my  boarding-pike.     I  must  bid  you  adieu." 

The  Englishman  smiled. 


JEAN   BART  97 

"  No,"  said  he.  "  You  cannot  go.  You  are  my 
prisoner !  " 

Jean  Bart  still  smoked. 

"  You  are  too  quick ! "  he  answered,  slowly. 
"  There  you  are  wrong.  I  am  not  your  prisoner,  for 
I  see  a  barrel  of  gunpowder  on  the  deck,  and,  if  you 
do  not  release  me  immediately,  I  will  blow  up  your 
ship!" 

The  Englishman  turned  pale. 

"  Watch  me !  "  cried  Jean  Bart. 

Leaping  from  his  seat,  ha  rushed  to  the  deck,  lighted 
a  match  from  his  pipe,  and  held  it  directly  over  the 
mouth  of  a  barrel  of  gunpowder,  from  which  some- 
one had  pried  the  head. 

"  Lay  on !  You  cowards !  "  he  yelled.  "  Lay  on, 
and  we'll  all  go  to  the  Land  of  the  Hereafter  to- 
gether." 

His  cry  was  heard  upon  his  own  vessel,  which  — 
with  sails  up  —  lay  waiting  for  him. 

In  a  moment  her  bow  was  turned  towards  the 
British  ship  which  was  still  at  anchor,  with  sails  un- 
hoisted.  In  a  moment  she  dropped  down  alongside  — 
and  —  in  less  time  than  it  takes  to  tell  —  the  French- 
men had  brought  her  upon  the  port  quarter,  and  were 
swarming  across  the  deck  to  rescue  their  bold  captain. 

Taken  by  surprise,  the  English  put  up  a  plucky  fight, 
but  they  were  no  match  for  the  infuriated  men  of 
Dunkirk.  They  were  soon  overpowered.  The  cap- 
tain was  taken  prisoner,  and  the  vessel  was  considered 
a  legitimate  prize  of  war,  because  of  the  trick  which 
Middleton  had  attempted  to  play  upon  Jean   Bart. 


98        FAMOUS   PRIVATEERSMEN 

When  —  in  a  few  days  —  the  prize  was  sailed  into 
Dunkirk  harbor  —  the  EngHshman  well  wished  that 
he  had  not  attempted  to  capture  the  most  able  priva- 
teersman  of  all  France. 

The  fame  of  this  exploit  spread  over  the  land,  and 
gave  rise  to  a  ditty,  which  ran : 

"If  you  want  to  catch  Jean  Bart,  sir, 
A  slippery,  slimy  chap, 
Don't  bait  him  with  gunpowder, 
For  he's  sure  to  miss  the  trap. 
You  must  splice  him  down  with  chains,  sir; 
You  must  nail  him  to  the  deck. 
Put  a  belt  around  his  middle, 
And  a  collar  'round  his  neck. 
Even  then  you  cannot  hold  him. 
For  he's  certain  to  get  through, 
While  his  sailors  sing  a  song,  sir, 
With  a 

Cock- 
a- 
doodle- 

doo!" 

In  July,  1675,  Jean  Bart  was  married,  but  he  did 
not  remain  long  on  shore.  Three  weeks  after  this 
auspicious  event  he  once  more  put  to  sea  and  captured 
a  number  of  Dutch  fishing  boats,  which  he  allowed  the 
captains  to  ransom  for  large  sums  of  money. 

This  was  a  very  convenient  arrangement,  for  it 
saved  him  the  trouble  of  putting  part  of  his  own  crew 
on  board  and  sending  the  boats  to  port.  But  the  own- 
ers of  La  RoyolCy  upon  which  he  sailed,  did  not  care 
for  his  methods  of  procedure. 

"  You  cannot  do  this  in  future !  "  said  they.  "  And 
you  must  forfeit  half  of  what  you  took  to  us ! " 


JEAN   BART  99 

Jean  Bart  obeyed,  but  he  was  very  angry.  It  is 
even  said  that  he  uttered  "  a  round  seaman's  oath." 

So  successful  was  he,  in  fact,  that  he  was  given  a 
much  larger  vessel  in  1676.  This  was  a  frigate  — 
the  Palme  —  with  twenty-four  guns  and  a  crew  of 
one  hundred  and  fifty  men.  Sailing  into  the  North 
Sea  with  two  small  French  gun-boats,  he  soon  fell  in 
with  three  Dutch  privateers  and  eight  armed  whaling 
vessels.  He  attacked,  and  the  battle  raged  for  three 
long,  bloody  hours. 

When  the  smoke  and  the  fumes  of  sulphur  burned 
away,  Bart  had  boarded  the  largest  privateer,  while  his 
two  consorts  had  taken  the  eight  whalers.  The  other 
Dutch  privateers  found  it  too  hot  for  their  liking  and 
scudded  for  the  coast,  firing  their  stern-guns  derisively 
as  they  disappeared.  It  was  a  great  victory,  and  again 
the  French  coast  rung  with  salvos  for  Jean  Bart,  while 
the  old  sea-dogs  shrugged  their  shoulders,  say- 
ing: 

"  Ah !  Ha !  Did  we  not  tell  you  that  Dunkirk  bred 
men  of  bone  and  marrow.     Ah !   Ha !  " 

But  Jean  Bart  was  not  happy. 

"  Would  that  I  could  meet  a  foe  of  my  own  force," 
he  used  to  say.  "  Either  a  man-of-war  or  a  privateer, 
I  don't  care  which.  I  want  to  try  it  on  with  one  of 
my  own  size  and  strength." 

His  wish  was  soon  to  be  gratified. 

On  September  7th,  1676,  he  was  pointing  the  Palme 
towards  the  Belgian  coast-line,  when  he  sighted  a 
number  of  sail  on  the  starboard  quarter.  He  headed 
for  them ;  scanned  the  white  dots  through  a  glass,  and 


100      FAMOUS   PRIVATBERSMEN 

saw  that  this  was  a  fishing  fleet  of  small,  unarmed 
luggers.  But  a  big,  hulking  Dutch  frigate  hovered 
in  their  rear,  and  thirty-two  guns  pointed  their  brown 
muzzles  menacingly  from  her  open  port-holes.  She 
was  the  NepUme  and  she  lazed  along  like  a  huge 
whale:    omnipotent  and  self-satisfied. 

"  Ah  ha !  "  cried  the  delighted  Jean  Bart.  "  Now 
I  have  met  an  enemy  that  is  worthy  of  my  steel.  Up 
with  the  flag  and  sail  into  yonder  Dutchman.  We 
have  but  twenty-four  guns  to  her  thirty-two,  but  are 
we  to  be  awed  by  this  show  of  force?  Be  ready,  my 
boys,  to  have  the  stiff  est  fight  in  your  careers!" 

The  Dutchman  was  equally  well  pleased  when  he 
saw  who  was  coming  for  him. 

"  Here  is  Jean  Bart,  the  pirate  and  privateer,"  he 
cried.  "  For  three  years  I've  been  hoping  to  have  a 
fight  with  him  and  now  my  chance  has  come  at  last. 
I  am  fortunate,  for  I  can  pay  him  back  for  all  the 
damage  that  he  has  done  to  Dutch  commerce.  Shoot 
low,  my  hearties,  and  do  not  fail  to  hull  our  enemy. 
Let  your  war-cry  be :  *  Down  with  Jean  Bart  and  his 
pirate  crew ! '  " 

"  Hurrah !  "  shouted  his  men. 

And  an  answering 

"  Hurray ! "  came  from  the  Palme.  These  oppo- 
nents were  as  eager  to  get  at  each  other  as  two  prize- 
fighters of  modern  days. 

Crash!  roared  a  broadside  from  the  Dutch  frigate 
as  her  flag  went  aloft,  and  splash,  splash,  splash,  went 
her  shells  around  the  sides  of  the  privateer. 

**  Sail  in  close !  "  yelled  Jean  Bart.     "  Hug  her  to 


JEAN   BAET  iol 

leeward  for  awhile,  then  cross  her  bows,  rake  her,  get 
her  wind,  and  board." 

"  Hurray !  "  shouted  the  men  of  Dunkirk,  and  a 
rattle,  rattle,  roar  came  from  the  port  guns  of  the 
Palme. 

Around  and  around  swung  the  sea  gladiators  and 
the  little  fishing  boats  luffed  and  tittered  on  the  waves 
like  inquisitive  sparrows. 

"  Bart  cannot  win !  "  said  several  of  their  skippers. 
"  For  he's  out  weighted  and  outnumbered !  " 

But  Bart  was  fighting  like  John  Paul  Jones. 

Around  and  around  went  the  two  opponents,  guns 
growling,  men  cheering,  sails  slapping  and  ripping 
with  the  chain  and  solid  shot.  Again  and  again  Jean 
Bart  endeavored  to  get  a  favorable  position  for  board- 
ing and  again  and  again  he  was  forced  to  tack  away 
by  the  quick  manoeuvres  of  the  Dutchman. 

"  Fire  into  her  rigging ! "  he  now  thundered. 
"  Cripple  those  top-sails  and  I  can  bring  my  boat 
alongside." 

"Crash!  Crash!  Crash!'' 

Volley  after  volley  puffed  from  the  side  of  the 
rolling  Palme.  Volley  after  volley  poured  its  lead  and 
iron  into  the  swaying  rigging  of  the  Dutchman,  and, 
with  a  great  roaring,  ripping,  and  smashing,  the 
mizzen  top-mast  came  toppling  over  the  lee  rail. 

A  lusty  cheer  sounded  from  the  deck  of  the  Palme. 

"  She's  ours !  "  cried  Jean  Bart,  smiling. 

Instantly  he  spun  over  the  wheel,  luffed,  and 
brought  his  boat  upon  the  starboard  quarter  of  the 
Dutchman,  who  was  now  part  helpless.     It  took  but 


102      FAMOUS   PRIVATEERSMEN 

a  moment  to  run  alongside,  and,  in  a  moment  more, 
the  Palme  was  lashed  to  the  Neptune  in  a  deadly  em- 
brace. Smoke  rolled  from  the  sides  of  both  contest- 
ants and  the  roar  of  the  guns  drowned  the  shrill  cries 
of  the  wounded.  The  Dutchmen  w^ere  now  desperate 
and  their  guns  were  spitting  fire  in  rapid,  successive 
volleys ;  but  many  of  them  were  silenced,  as  the  great, 
brown  side  of  the  Palme  rubbed  its  planking  against 
the  splintered  railing  of  the  shattered  Neptune. 

As  the  vessels  were  securely  bound  together,  Jean 
Bart  seized  a  boarding-pike,  a  brace  of  pistols,  and, 
giving  the  helm  to  a  sailor,  leaped  into  the  waist  of 
his  ship. 

"Board!    Board !"  he  shouted. 

A  wild  yelp  greeted  these  welcome  sounds.  As  he 
vaulted  over  the  rail  of  his  own  ship  to  the  deck  of 
the  stranger,  a  motley  crew  of  half-wild  sea-savages 
swarmed  behind  him.  They  had  cutlasses  and  board- 
ing-pikes, and  their  faces  were  blackened  with  powder. 
Their  eyes  were  reddened  with  sulphurous  fumes  and 
their  clothes  torn  with  splintered  planking.  They 
rolled  over  the  gunwales  like  a  huge  wave  of  irresist- 
ible fire :  pistols  spitting,  pikes  gleaming,  cutlasses 
glistening  in  the  rays  of  the  sun. 

The  captain  of  the  Neptune  lay  near  his  own  wheel, 
grievously  wounded. 

"  Lay  on,  men !  "  he  shouted.  "  Don't  let  this 
French  privateer  beat  us.     We  will  be  disgraced." 

But  his  sailors  were  no  match  for  the  onrush  of 
these  fiends  from  Dunkirk.  They  fell  back  like  foam 
before  a  sea  squall. 


JEAN   BART  103 

"  Then  down  with  our  flag,"  cried  the  captain  of 
the  Dutchman.  "  But,  ye  gods,  how  it  hurts  me  to 
give  the  order." 

A  sailor  seized  the  halyards  and  pulled  the  ensign 
to  the  deck,  and,  as  it  fell  upon  the  reddened  planking, 
a  wild,  frenzied  cheer  came  from  the  French  priva- 
teers. 

"  Jean  Bart,  forever !  France  forever !  Jean  Bart 
forever !  "  they  cried. 

"Up  with  the  French  flag!"  yelled  Jean  Bart, 
laughing  like  a  boy.  "  Up  with  the  white  lilies  of 
France." 

And,  as  a  spare  ensign  ran  aloft,  the  little  fishing 
luggers  scudded  for  the  shore. 

"  After  them,  men !  "  cried  Captain  Bart.  "  Our 
work  is  not  yet  over.  We  must  have  the  lambs  as 
well  as  the  old  wolf." 

So,  sail  was  soon  clapped  on  the  Palme,  she  headed 
for  the  fleeing  boats,  and,  with  a  few  well  directed 
shots,  hove  them  to.  Then  they  were  told  to  follow 
behind  and  head  for  France,  which  they  did  —  but, 
oh!   how  it  did  hurt! 

It  was  a  proud  moment  for  Jean  Bart,  and  his  eyes 
danced  with  pleasure  when  he  sailed  into  Dunkirk  with 
the  captured  Neptune  and  the  fleet  of  fishing  boats. 

"  Voila !  "  cried  the  townspeople.  "  Jean  Bart  is  a 
true  hero.  Voila !  He  shall  have  the  freedom  of  the 
city.    Voila !  " 

The  fame  of  this  gallant  exploit  soon  spread  abroad 
and  the  king  showed  some  desire  to  see  this  coura- 
geous privateersman. 


104      FAMOUS   PEIVATEERSMEN 

"  I  would  have  him  at  court,"  said  he  to  his  minis- 
ter Colbert.     ""  For  I  would  reward  him." 

When  news  of  this  was  brought  to  the  privateers- 
man  he  was  naturally  delighted,  and,  travelling  to 
Versailles,  was  ushered  into  the  presence  of  his  Maj- 
esty. 

"  Here  is  a  gold  chain  for  you,"  said  the  king.  "  I 
trust  that  you  will  keep  it  in  recognition  of  my  appre- 
ciation of  your  gallant  conduct.  I  would  be  glad,  in- 
deed, to  have  you  in  the  Royal  Service.  Would  you 
not  take  a  commission  ?  " 

"  You  overwhelm  me,"  answered  the  valiant  sea- 
fighter,  blushing.  "I  —  I  —  I  —  am  quite  discon- 
certed. But  —  if  it  would  please  your  Majesty,  I 
believe  that  I  would  prefer  to  remain  a  simple  priva- 
teer. It  is  a  free  life  and  it  suits  my  roving  na- 
ture." 

The  king  chuckled. 

"  So  be  it,"  said  he.  "  But  my  good  sir,  keep  your- 
self in  readiness  for  a  commission.  I  may  need  you  in 
the  Royal  Marine !  " 

"  Very  good.  Sire !  "  said  Jean  Bart,  and,  bowing 
low,  he  withdrew. 

But  he  did  not  get  away  without  an  adventure,  — 
quite  as  exciting  as  any  he  had  had  aboard  the  rock- 
ing decks  of  one  of  his  privateer  ships. 

The  fame  of  Jean  Bart  had  stirred  up  a  number  of 
enemies,  for,  when  a  man  is  successful  in  life,  are  there 
not  always  a  hundred  unsuccessful  fellows  who  stand 
about  and  scoff? 

Among  these  were  a  few  followers  of  the  sea  who 


JEAN   BAET  105 

had  determined  to  make  way  with  this  too  fortunate 
privateer.  One  —  Jules  Blanc  by  name  —  even  de- 
cided upon  murder,  if  Jean  Bart  would  not  agree  to 
leave  the  privateering  business  to  himself  and  his 
companions. 

As  the  sailor  from  Dunkirk  left  the  presence  of 
the  king  he  was  accosted  by  one  of  his  old  acquaint- 
ances. 

"  Ha,  Jean  Bart,"  said  he.  "  Come  with  me  to  the 
Inn.  Have  a  glass  with  me,  my  boy,  for  I  see  that 
the  king  has  richly  rewarded  you.  You  deserve  it, 
for  you  have  done  well,  and  you  must  be  tired  from 
your  journey.     Come,  let  us  dine  together?" 

Suspecting  nothing,  the  gallant  privateer  followed 
his  companion  quite  willingly,  and,  when  he  arrived 
at  the  Inn,  was  not  surprised  to  find  several  other  sea- 
men from  Dunkirk  and  the  neighboring  seaports  of 
France.     They  greeted  him  warmly. 

"  To  your  health !  "  cried  they,  raising  their  glasses 
of  wine.  "  To  the  health  of  the  bravest  privateer  in 
all  of  France." 

Jean  Bart  was  delighted.  He  smiled  like  a  child, 
seated  himself  at  their  table,  and  began  to  drink  with 
these  jovial  men  of  the  sea. 

As  he  sat  there,  suddenly  a  paper  was  mysteriously 
shoved  into  his  hand.  He  did  not  see  from  whence 
it  came,  and,  as  he  scanned  its  contents,  his  face  grew 
strangely  pale. 

"  Beware  of  these  fellows,"  he  read.  "  They  mean 
to  kill  you  if  you  do  not  do  what  they  wish.  Be- 
ware!" 


106      FAMOUS   PRIVATEERSMEN 

Jean  Bart  soon  regained  his  composure. 

"  Come !  Let  us  go  to  the  dining-room  up-stairs/* 
said  the  friend  who  had  first  accosted  him.  "  Come, 
my  boys !     We  will  there  have  far  more  quiet !  " 

All  moved  for  the  door. 

Jean  Bart  moved,  also,  but  before  he  went  up- 
stairs, he  loosened  his  sword-belt  and  cocked  two  pis- 
tols w^hich  he  carried  at  his  waist.  He  was  not  sur- 
prised when  he  saw  them  lock  the  stout  door  as  they 
entered  the  room  upon  the  second  floor. 

When  they  were  all  seated  Jules  Blanc  arose.  His 
face  well  exhibited  his  dislike  for  the  successful  pri- 
vateersman,  Jean  Bart. 

"  Now,  my  friend,"  said  he,  facing  the  man  from 
Dunkirk,  "  we  have  you  here  with  a  purpose.  We 
wish  you  to  know  that  we  are  determined  that  you 
shall  no  longer  go  to  sea  and  spoil  our  own  busi- 
ness for  us.  You  have  had  enough  success.  We 
want  you  to  withdraw  and  give  some  one  else  a 
chance." 

Jean  Bart  smiled. 

"  We  think  that  you  should  retire  for  we  want 
some  pickings  for  ourselves." 

"And  if  I  refuse?"  queried  Jean  Bart. 

Jules  Blanc  placed  his  hand  instantly  upon  his 
sword-hilt. 

"Then  — there  will  be  trouble!" 

"Poof!"  said  Jean  Bart. 

As  he  spoke,  all  drew  their  rapiers. 

"Again  Poof!"  said  Jean  Bart. 

As  he  spoke,  a  thrust  came  from  his  right.     He 


JEAN   BART  107 

parried  it,  leaped  upon  a  chair,  and  stood  there  smi- 
hng. 

Crack!  There  was  the  sound  of  a  pistol  and  a 
bullet  whizzed  by  his  ear. 

Then  there  was  a  sudden  and  awful  Crash!  The 
room  was  filled  with  dust. 

When  the  startled  sea-dogs  looked  about  them  Jean 
Bart  no  longer  stood  upon  the  table.  He  had  disap- 
peared through  the  window.  And  broken  glass  with 
splintered  fastenings  was  all  that  remained  of  the  once 
perfect  glazing. 

"  He  has  gone,"  said  Jules  Blanc.  **  Fellow  sea- 
men, we  are  outdone." 

But  Jean  Bart  was  a  quarter  of  a  mile  away,  laugh- 
ing softly  to  himself,  as  he  sped  along  the  highway 
which  led  to  quiet  Dunkirk. 

Things  went  well  with  him,  also,  for  his  employers 
—  appreciating  his  past  services  —  now  gave  him 
command  of  a  larger  ship  than  the  Palme:  the  Dau- 
phin, with  thirty  guns  and  two  hundred  eager  and 
adventurous  sailors  from  the  northern  coast  of  France. 

Sailing  forth  from  Dunkirk  harbor,  on  June  i8th, 
1678,  Jean  Bart  eagerly  scanned  the  horizon  with  his 
glass.  With  him  were  two  smaller  privateers,  so  that 
he  felt  well  able  to  cope  with  any  adversary  from  Hol- 
land. His  keen  glance  was  soon  to  be  rewarded,  for 
when  but  two  days  from  port  he  spied  a  sail  upon  the 
starboard  bow.  It  was  a  Dutch  frigate  —  the  Sher- 
dam  —  of  forty  guns  and  manned  by  many  stout  dogs 
of  the  sea.  Her  captain  —  Andre  Ranc  —  was  a  keen 
fighter  and  a  man  of  well-tried  courage. 


108      FAMOUS   PRIVATEERSMEN 

"  Bear  off  to  leeward!  "  signalled  Jean  Bart  to  his 
privateer  companion.  **  Then  we  will  get  the  stranger 
between  us,  fasten  to  her,  and  board  her  from  either 
side." 

The  flag  of  the  French  privateer  dipped  back  an 
answering,  "  All  right !  "  and,  as  she  was  nearest  to 
the  Dutchman,  she  attacked  at  once. 

*'  Poom!  Poom!  "  went  the  Dutch  cannon,  like  the 
beating  of  a  churn  in  that  land  of  canals  and  cheese- 
making.  And  piff!  piffi  answered  the  little  howitz- 
ers of  the  privateer. 

But  Jean  Bart  meant  to  have  a  quick  fight,  so  he 
bore  down  to  starboard,  wore  ship,  and  ran  so  close  to 
the  enemy,  that  his  grappling  irons  soon  held  her  fast. 
In  a  moment  more  his  own  vessel  was  hauled  along- 
side. 

Meanwhile  the  smaller  French  privateer  had 
spanked  over  to  larboard ;  had  run  up  upon  the  oppo- 
site side  of  the  lumbering  Dutchman;  and  had  also 
gripped  her.  A  wild,  nerve-wracking  cheer  went  up, 
as  —  sword  in  hand  —  Jean  Bart  led  his  boarders 
over  the  side  of  tlie  Dutch  vessel. 

Ranc  was  badly  wounded  but  he  led  his  men  to  a 
counter  assault  with  courage  bom  of  desperation. 
Cutlasses  crashed  together,  boarding-pikes  smashed 
and  hacked,  and  pistols  growled  and  spattered  in 
one  discordant  roar.  Back  went  the  Dutch  sailors 
fighting  savagely  and  bluntly  with  all  the  stubborn- 
ness of  their  natures,  then  back  they  pushed  the 
followers  of  Jean  Bart,  while  Ranc  called  to 
them; 


»     »  »*,  »  • 

1  J      >      I    a 


>  >      }         >    1 


'     »    »   ,  *    » 


JEA:N   BART  109 

"  Drive  these  French  curs  into  the  sea !  " 

But  now  the  other  privateer  had  made  fast,  and  her 
men  came  clambering  over  the  rail,  with  cutlass,  dirk, 
and  pistols. 

"  We're  outnumbered,"  Ranc  shouted,  his  face 
showing  extreme  suffering.  "  Haul  down  the  flag ! 
Had  Jean  Bart  been  here  alone  I  could  have  trounced 
him  well." 

Thus  reluctantly  and  sadly  the  flag  of  the  S  her  dam 
came  down.  But  the  French  had  paid  well  for  their 
victory. 

Jean  Bart  was  badly  wounded  in  the  leg;  his  face 
was  burned  by  the  discharge  of  a  gun,  which  went  off 
—  almost  in  his  eyes  —  just  as  he  leaped  on  board  the 
Sherdam.  Six  of  his  men  were  killed  and  thirty-one 
were  wounded,  while  the  little  privateer  that  had 
fastened  to  the  other  flank  of  the  huge  Sherdam,  was 
a  total  wreck.  So  well,  indeed,  had  the  Dutch  fighters 
plied  their  cannon  as  she  approached,  that  she  was 
shattered  almost  beyond  repair.  With  great  difficulty 
she  was  finally  towed  to  shore. 

Of  course  all  France  again  rang  with  the  fame  of 
Jean  Bart,  while  the  crafty  sea-dogs  who  had  en- 
deavored to  capture  the  slippery  privateersman  were 
furious  with  envious  rage.  But  Jean  Bart  hummed 
a  little  tune  to  himself,  which  ran, 

"  You'll  have  to  get  up  early  if  you  want  to  catch  Jean  Bart, 

You'll  have  to  get  up  early,  and  have  a  goodly  start, 

For  the   early  bird  can  catch  the   worm,   if  the  worm   is  fast 

asleep, 
But  not  if  it's  a  privateer,  who  can  through  a  window  leap." 


110      FAMOUS   PRIVATEERSMEN 

This  invincible  corsair  was  also  not  idle,  for  in  two 
weeks'  time  he  was  again  at  sea  in  the  Mars  of  thirty- 
two  guns,  and  a  fast  sailer.  Eagerly  looking  for 
prizes,  he  cruised  far  up  the  coast  of  Holland  and  was 
keenly  hunting  for  either  merchantman  or  frigate, 
when  a  small  vessel  neared  him,  upon  which  was  fly- 
ing a  white  flag. 

"  A  truce !  "  cried  Jean  Bart.  "  The  war  must  be 
over." 

When  the  little  boat  drew  nearer,  a  fat  Dutchman 
called  out  something  which  sounded  like,  "  Amsterdam 
yam  Goslam !  "  which  meant,  "  Peace  has  been  de- 
clared," in  Dutch. 

So  Jean  Bart  sailed  back  into  the  sheltering  harbor 
of  Dunkirk  with  tears  of  sorrow  in  his  eyes,  for  he 
loved  his  exciting  life. 

"  Helas !  "  said  he.     "  It  is  all  over !  " 

Thus,  indeed,  ended  the  career  of  Jean  Bart  as  a 
privateer  captain.  In  January,  1679,  he  was  given  the 
commission  of  lieutenant  in  the  French  navy,  but, 
although  he  accepted,  he  was  never  happy  in  this 
service.  From  captain  to  lieutenant  was  a  decided 
come  down,  and  besides  this,  the  aristocratic  officers 
of  the  Crown  made  life  very  unpleasant  for  one  who 
had  entered  their  ranks  from  privateering. 

"Bah!"  said  they.  "He  is  only  a  commoner!" 
And  they  would  turn  up  their  titled  noses. 

But  —  mark  you  this! 

Several  hundred  years  have  passed  since  those  days, 
and  Jean  Bart's  name  Is  still  remembered.  Who  re- 
members the  names  of  any  of  these  titled  nobles  who 


JEAN   BAET  111 

held  commissions  from  his  Majesty,  the  King  of 
France  ? 

I  do  not  think  that  any  of  you  do.  Certainly  I  do 
not. 

Therefore,  there  is  a  little  lesson  to  be  learned,  and 
it  is  this: 

Never  sneer  at  the  fellow  who  accomplishes  things, 
if  he  be  of  humble  birth.  His  name  may  go  down  to 
history.     Yours  probably  will  not. 

So,  the  next  time  that  you  are  tempted  to  do  this, 
think  it  over.  If  you  do,  you  will  not  say,  ''  Pish,  — 
the  Commoner!"     But  you  will  say, 

"Well  done!    The  Hero!" 

So,  good-by,  Jean  Bart,  and  may  France  produce 
your  like  again,  if  she  can! 


'Keep  these  legends,  gray  with  age, 
Saved  from  the  crumbling  wrecks  of  yore, 
When  cheerful  conquerors  moored  their  barques 
Along  the  Saxon  shore." 

—  Thompson. 


DU  GUAY-TROUIN 
THE  GREAT  FRENCH  "BLUE" 

(1673-1736) 


"Self  trust  is  the  essence  of  Heroism."  —  Plutarch. 


DU    GUAY-TROUIN 

THE    GREAT    FRENCH    "BLUE" 

( 1673  - 1736 ) 

"He's  only  a  scurvy  Democrat,  his  blood  is  hardly  blue, 

Oh,  Sacre  Nom  de  Dieu !     Sapristi !     Eet  is  true! 

Yet,  he  fights  like  the  Maid  of  Orleans,  with  dirk  and  halberd,  too, 

Oh,  Sacre  Nom  de  Dieu!     Sapristi!     Eet  is  true! 

Then  —  what'll  you  think,  good  gentlemen,  you  men  of  the  kingly 

pack, 
Ye  sons  of  Armand  the  Terrible,  ye  whelps  of  Catouriac, 
Shall  he  gain  the  royal  purple?    Shall  he  sit  in  the  ranks  with  us? 
Shall  he  quaff  of  our  golden  vintage,  shall  he  ride  in  the  royal 

bus? 
Nay !     Nay !    Fo^r  that  would  be  te-r-r-ible  !     Nay !     Nay !     That 

ill-born  cuss? 
Par  done !  but  that  is  unbearable !    'Twould  result  in  a  shameful 

fuss ! 
Pray,  let  him  remain  a  Democrat  —  The  cream  of  the  fleet  for 

us." 

— Song  of  the  French  Royal  Marine.  —  1695. 

*'V^TOU  must  be  a  churchman,  Renee,"  said  the 

I      good  Luc  Trouin,   turning  to  his  little  son. 

"  I  have  always  had  a  great  ambition  to  have 

a  child  of  mine  in  the  church,  and  I  feel  that  you  are 

in  every  way  qualified  for  the  position  of  a  prelate." 

But  little  Renee  hung  his  head. 

"  Look  up,  boy,"  continued  the  amiable  Frenchman. 

"  I  know  that  you  are  not  now  pleased  with  the  idea, 

but  —  later  on  —  after  you  have  had  more  experience, 

116 


116      FAMOUS   PRIVATEERSMEN 

I  feel  sure  that  you  can  thank  Heaven  that  your  good 
father  started  you  in  the  right  and  proper  direction." 

Still,  little  Renee  hung  his  head. 

"Tut!  Tut!"  continued  the  old  man.  ''You  will 
leave,  to-morrow,  for  the  college  at  Rheims,  and,  after 
you  have  been  there  but  a  short  time,  I  feel  sure  that 
you  will  like  it.    Tut!  Tut!" 

But  still  little  Renee  hung  his  head. 

Again  came  the  amiable  ''  Tut !  Tut !  "  and  the 
chuckling  Luc  Trouin  wandered  off  into  the  garden 
to  see  how  well  the  potatoes  were  growing. 

But  little  Renee  still  hung  his  head. 

And  —  in  spite  of  the  fact  that  little  Renee  went  to 
the  Divinity  school  at  Rheims,  he  continued  to  hang 
his  head.  He  hung  his  head  for  three  years.  Then, 
news  was  brought  to  him,  one  day,  that  the  good  Luc 
Trouin  was  dead,  and,  instead  of  holding  his  hand- 
kerchief to  his  eyes  to  wipe  away  the  tears,  as  one 
would  expect  of  him,  little  Renee  burst  into  loud 
laughter. 

"  At  last,"  cried  he,  "  I  can  get  away  from  the 
church  and  go  to  sea.    At  last  i^y  freedom  has  come !  " 

And  it  was  not  many  hours  before  little  Renee  was 
scudding  away  from  the  school  of  Divinity,  like  a 
clipper-ship  under  a  full  spread  of  canvas,  before  a 
rousing  sou'west  breeze. 

For  at  least  two  hundred  years  before  the  birth  of 
bad,  little  Renee,  the  Trouin  family  had  been  well 
known  and  prosperous  in  the  Breton  sea-port  of  St. 
Malo.  For  many  years  a  Trouin  had  been  consul  at 
Malaga,  Spain ;  and  other  members  of  the  house  had 


DU   GUAY-TROUESr  117 

held  excellent  positions  with  the  King,  so  little  Renec 
had  no  reason  to  be  ashamed  of  his  forebears,  in  spite 
of  the  fact  that  his  people  were  of  the  "  bourgeoisie :  " 
ship-owners,  traders,  smugglers,  privateers,  and  mer- 
chants. And,  as  they  were  of  the  "  bourgeoisie,"  they 
were  somewhat  looked  down  upon  by  the  proud  and 
haughty  aristocrats  who  fawned  about  the  weak  and 
dissipated  King. 

Little  Renee  was  the  son  of  Luc  Trouin  and  Mar- 
guerite Boscher  but  he  was  called  Du  Guay-Trouin, 
in  later  years,  and  the  reason  for  this  is  plain.  For  — 
in  accordance  with  the  custom  of  the  time  —  he  was 
sent  to  be  nursed  by  a  foster  mother  who  resided  in 
the  little  village  of  Le  Gue.  So  he  was  called  Trouin 
du  Gue;   which  shortly  became  Du  Guay-Trouin. 

"  I've  come  home,  mother,"  shouted  little  Renee, 
when  he  had  plodded  his  weary  way  which  lay  between 
his  temporary  prison  and  the  house  of  his  parents. 
*'  I've  come  home,  mother,  and  I'm  going  to  sea!  " 

But  his  mother  did  not  take  any  too  kindly  to  this 
bold  and  valiant  idea. 

"  You  must  study  law,"  said  she,  with  great  firm- 
ness. And  —  in  spite  of  the  fact  that  little  Renee 
begged  and  pleaded  —  he  was  forced  to  give  up  his 
idea  of  sea-faring  life  for  the  dry  drudgery  and  rou- 
tine of  a  clerk  at  law.  He  was  now  about  sixteen 
years  of  age. 

"  The  law  is  dry  and  my  spirits  are  high,"  youthful 
Renee  is  said  to  have  carolled  as  he  spent  his  first  few 
hours  at  a  lecture,  "  and  whatever  may  be  Fm  going 
to  sea." 


118      FAMOUS   PEIVATEERSMEN 

At  any  rate,  he  soon  got  into  trouble  and  engaged 
in  three  duels  in  his  sixteenth  year,  in  one  of  which 
his  assailant  gave  him  a  serious  wound.  This  was 
too  much  for  even  his  stern  mother  to  bear,  so,  sum- 
moning a  family  council,  she  gave  forth  the  following 
opinion : 

*'  Renee  has  failed  as  a  student  of  Divinity.  Renee 
has  failed  as  a  student  of  law.  Renee  has  entirely  too 
high  spirits.  Renee  shall,  therefore,  be  placed  in  one 
of  the  family  ships  and  sent  to  sea." 

And  to  this  decree  Renee  is  said  to  have  cried: 
"  At  last !    Hurray !  "  for  he  longed  for  action. 

In  a  very  short  time  little  Renee  had  a  taste  of  that 
war  and  adventure  which  he  craved,  for  a  historian 
writes  that: 

"  During  the  first  three  months  of  this  cruise  his 
courage  was  tried  by  a  violent  tempest,  an  imminent 
shipwreck,  the  boarding  of  an  English  ship,  and  the 
threatened  destruction  of  his  own  vessel  by  fire.  The 
following  year,  still  as  a  volunteer,  he  displayed  the 
greatest  personal  courage  and  won  much  fame  in  an 
engagement  which  his  ship  had  with  five  merchant 
vessels." 

"  Ah  ha,"  said  little  Renee,  "  this  is  indeed  life.  I 
am  having  a  good  time." 

So  well  did  those  higher  in  command  feel  towards 
the  youthful  sailor,  that,  at  the  age  of  eighteen,  he  was 
actually  put  in  charge  of  the  ship  D  any  can  of  fourteen 
guns,  —  for  France  was  at  war  with  England,  Hol- 
land, and  Spain,  and  to  him  who  could  strike  a  quick 
and  well-aimed  blow  there  were  "  nice  pickings  "  to 


DU   GUAY-TROUIN  119 

be  had.  And  the  reckless  young  sea-dog  found  some 
''  nice  pickings  "  in  Ireland,  for,  he  landed  an  armed 
party  upon  the  coast  of  County  Clare,  where  he  pil- 
laged a  village,  burned  two  ships  at  anchor,  and  es- 
caped to  his  own  vessel  with  considerable  booty 
and  family  heirlooms  of  the  peasants,  who  said, 
''  Och,  Begorra !  We'll  be  afther  that  wild  bhoy 
before  many  suns,  and  spank  him  for  his  unseemly 
whork." 

But  the  French  cried  "  Voila !  Here,  indeed,  is  a 
brave  young  Bourgeois,"  and  promptly  raised  him  to 
the  command  of  the  Coetquen  of  eighteen  guns,  in 
which  he  soon  went  cruising,  accompanied  by  a  sister- 
ship,  the  St.  Aaron. 

Prowling  around  the  English  channel,  the  skulking 
sea-hounds  soon  came  across  two  small  English  men- 
of-war  with  five  valuable  merchantmen  under  their 
sheltering  wings. 

"  All  ready  for  the  attack ! "  shouted  Du  Guay- 
Trouin.  "  We'll  make  mince-meat  of  those  foreign 
hulks,  in  spite  of  the  fact  that  they  are  protected  by 
two  men-of-war." 

And,  crowding  on  all  sail,  his  own  vessel  and  the 
St.  Aaron  quickly  bore  down  upon  the  Englishmen, 
who,  seeing  them  approach,  hove-to  for  action. 

The  engagement  was  short.  After  a  few  broad- 
sides had  been  delivered,  the  English  struck,  the  prizes 
were  taken  over,  and  all  started  for  the  coast  of 
France.    But  suddenly  a  cry  went  up, 

"  Sail  ho !    Sail  ho !   off  the  starboard  bow !  " 

"  Ta  Done,"  cried  the  surprised  Du  Guay-Trouin. 


120      FAMOUS   PBrVATEERSMEN 

"  It  IS  a  big  nian-of-warsman  and  a  Britisher  too. 
We  must  give  up  our  prizes,  I  fear.  Clap  on  all  can- 
vas and  we'll  hie  us  to  shore." 

So  all  sail  was  hoisted,  and,  steering  for  the  shoals 
and  rocks  off  Lundy  Island  —  where  he  knew  that 
the  heavy  Englishman  could  not  follow  —  Du  Guay- 
Trouin  soon  outdistanced  and  outwitted  the  Cen- 
turion: a  line-of-battle  ship  and  a  formidable  oppo- 
nent.   The  rich  prizes  had  to  be  left  behind. 

Honorable  appointments  crowded  upon  the  daring, 
young  sea-dog,  after  this  affair,  and  we  find  him  suc- 
cessively in  command  of  the  Profond,  of  thirty-two 
guns;  the  Hercule,  of  twenty-eight  guns,  and  the 
Diligente  of  thirty-six  guns  and  two  hundred  and 
fifty  sailors,  which  was  a  King's  ship  borrowed  for 
privateering  and  run  on  shares,  —  the  monarch  to 
have  a  certain  part  of  the  winnings. 

Like  partners  in  business  the  Diligente  and  Hercule 
now  went  cruising,  and  it  was  not  long  before  the 
two  harpies  swooped  down  upon  their  prey  in  the 
shape  of  two  Dutch  East  Indiamen,  armed  with 
twenty-five  guns  each,  and  manned  by  rotund-bodied 
Dutchmen.  There  was  rich  treasure  aboard,  and,  with 
eagerness  and  zeal,  the  Frenchmen  slapped  on  all  can- 
vas in  pursuit. 

Now  was  a  hot  chase.  Mile  after  mile  was  passed, 
and  slowly  but  surely  the  Frenchmen  gained  upon  the 
lumbering  foe.    Then  suddenly,  — 

Crash ! 

A  ball  screamed  above  the  head  of  Du  Guay- 
Trouin,  and  a  Dutchman  hove-to  for  battle. 


DU   GUAY-TEOUIN  121 

"  Crawl  in  close,"  cried  the  valiant  Frenchman, 
"  and  don't  let  go  a  broadside  until  you  can  hit  'em 
below  the  water  line.  Try  to  scuttle  the  Dutch  lum- 
ber merchant !  " 

His  men  obeyed  him  willingly  and  soon  there  was 
a  muffled  roar  as  the  first  broadside  spoke  in  the  still 
air.  Another  and  another  followed,  and  the  Dutch- 
man trembled  like  an  aspen  leaf. 

"  Hah,"  shouted  the  enthusiastic  Renee,  "  up  goes 
the  white  flag!  " 

Sure  enough,  the  vessel  struck,  and  aboard  of  her 
was  the  Dutch  commodore.  But  the  Hercule  was 
beaten  off  by  the  second  Dutchman,  and,  as  the  pri- 
vateers boarded  the  captured  vessel,  the  East  India- 
man  showed  a  clean  pair  of  heels,  under  a  cloud  of 
bellying  canvas. 

Du  Guay-Trouin  was  delighted.  "  On  we  go, 
Boys,"  he  cried,  "  for  we'll  sail  these  waters  until  we 
strike  another  prize."  And  this  is  what  soon  hap- 
pened. 

On  May  the  12th,  the  Diligente  was  cruising  alone, 
when,  suddenly  six  white  dots  appeared  upon  the 
horizon,  and  six  British  ships-of-the-line  were  soon 
closing  in  upon  the  venturous  French  navigator  and 
his  crew. 

"  Ye  Gods,"  cried  the  doughty  Frenchman,  "  we're 
in  for  it  now,  but  we  will  give  them  a  lively  bout  even 
though  we'll  get  the  worst  of  it." 

And  here  is  how  he  has  described  the  battle : 

"  One  of  the  English  ships  named  Adventure  first 
overtook  me,  and  we  maintained  a  running  fight  for 


122      FAMOUS   PRIVATEERSMEN 

nearly  four  hours,  before  any  other  of  their  ships 
could  come  up.  .  .  . 

"  At  length  my  two  topmasts  were  shot  away ;  on 
which  the  Adventure  ranged  up  alongside  me,  a  short 
pistol-shot  off,  and  hauled  up  her  courses.  Seeing 
her  so  near,  it  occurred  to  me  to  run  foul  of  her  and 
board  her  with  my  whole  crew.  Forthwith  I  ordered 
such  of  the  officers  as  were  near  to  send  the  people  on 
deck,  got  ready  the  grapnels,  and  put  the  helm  over. 

"  We  were  just  on  the  point  of  hooking  on  to  her, 
when  unfortunately,  one  of  my  Lieutenants,  looking 
out  through  a  port  and  seeing  the  two  ships  so  close 
together,  took  it  into  his  head  that  there  was  some 
mistake,  as  he  could  not  think  that  —  under  the  cir- 
cumstances—  I  had  any  intention  of  boarding;  and 
so,  of  himself,  ordered  the  helm  to  be  reversed. 

"  I  had  no  idea  of  what  had  been  done,  and  was 
impatiently  waiting  for  the  two  ships  to  clash  together, 
ready  to  throw  myself  on  board  the  enemy;  but  see- 
ing that  my  ship  did  not  obey  her  helm,  I  ran  to  the 
wheel,  and  found  it  had  been  changed  without  my 
order. 

"  I  had  it  again  jammed  hard  on ;  but  perceived, 
with  the  keenest  vexation,  that  the  captain  of  the 
Adventure,  having  guessed  by  the  expression  of  my 
face  what  I  had  meant  to  do,  had  let  fall  his  courses, 
and  was  sheering  off.  We  had  been  so  near  that  my 
bowsprit  had  broken  his  taffrail;  but  the  mistake  of 
my  Lieutenant  made  me  lose  the  opportunity  of  one 
of  the  most  surprising  adventures  ever  heard  tell  of. 

"  In  the  determination  I  was  in  to  perish  or  to  cap- 


DU   GUAY-TROUIN  123 

ture  this  ship,  which  was  much  the  fastest  sailor  of  the 
squadron,  it  was  more  than  probable  that  I  should  have 
succeeded,  and  should  thus  have  taken  back  to  France 
a  much  stronger  ship  than  that  which  I  abandoned. 
And,  not  to  speak  of  the  credit  which  would  have 
attached  to  the  execution  of  such  a  plan,  it  is  quite 
certain  that  —  being  dismasted  —  there  was  absolutely 
no  other  way  for  me  to  escape  from  forces  so  su- 
perior." 

But  closer  —  always  closer  —  crowded  the  British 
war-dogs,  and  the  valorous  French  seamen  became 
panic  stricken.  "  We  are  out-numbered  and  out- 
fought," cried  many,  and,  deserting  their  guns,  they 
fled  below  to  the  holds,  in  spite  of  the  vigorous  protests 
of  Du  Guay-Trouin. 

"  I  was  busy  trying  to  put  a  stop  to  the  panic," 
says  he.  "  I  had  cut  down  one  and  pistolled  another, 
when,  to  crown  my  misfortune,  fire  broke  out  in  the 
gun-room.  The  fear  of  being  blown  up  made  it  neces- 
sary for  me  to  go  below ;  but,  having  got  the  fire  put 
out,  I  had  a  tub  full  of  grenades  brought  me,  and 
began  throwing  them  down  into  the  hold. 

"  By  this  means  I  compelled  the  deserters  to  come 
up  and  to  man  some  of  the  lower  deck  guns;  but, 
when  I  went  up  on  the  poop,  I  found,  to  my  astonish- 
ment and  vexation,  that  some  cowardly  rascal  had 
taken  advantage  of  my  absence  to  haul  down  the 
colors. 

"  I  ordered  them  to  be  hoisted  again ;  but  my  of- 
ficers represented  that  to  do  so  would  be  simply  giv- 
ing up  the  remnant  of  my  ship's  company  to  be 


124      FAMOUS   PRIVATEERSMEN 

butchered  by  the  EngHsh,  who  would  give  no  quarter 
if  the  flag  were  hoisted  again,  after  being  struck  for 
so  long,  and  that  further  resistance  was  hopeless  as 
the  ship  was  dismasted." 

"  Never  give  in,  for  "  —  cried  Du  Guay-Trouin, 
whose  democratic  blood  was  now  up,  but  he  did  not 
finish  the  sentence  as  a  spent  shot  then  knocked  him 
senseless.  And  —  as  he  fell  —  the  white  flag  went 
aloft,  for  his  officers  had  not  his  fighting  spirit. 

"  Ah  ha,"  laughed  the  English  jack  tars.  "  WeVe 
got  the  French  rascal  at  last,  and  we'll  hold  him 
too." 

So  little  Renee  was  imprisoned  in  a  nice,  dark 
dungeon,  —  the  kind  which  the  English  used  to  put 
their  poor  debtors  in.  But  —  like  a  true  man  of  cour- 
age —  little  Renee  escaped,  took  to  a  smuggler's  skiff, 
and  made  off  to  the  coast  of  France,  where  he  arrived 
on  the  1 8th  of  June,  1694,  and  was  received  right 
boisterously  by  the  Trouin  family. 

"  My  son,"  spoke  his  aged  mother,  "  you  were 
indeed  not  intended  for  the  law,  for  lawlessness  seems 
to  be  your  particular  fancy." 

So  the  delighted  Trouins  put  him  in  charge  of  a 
splendid  privateersman  mounting  forty-eight  guns, 
sailing  under  the  simple  name  of  Francois,  and,  as 
she  forged  valiantly  into  the  English  channel,  her 
skipper  chanted  an  old  French  song,  which  ran,  — 

"  Sons  of  St.  Malo,  hark  to  my  lay, 
With  a  Heave !   Ho !   Blow  the  man  down. 
For  we'll  capture  a  lugger  ere  close  of  the  day. 
With  a  Heave!    Ho!    Blow  the  man  down. 


DU   GUAY-TROUIN  126 

"  She's  filled  with  gold  nuggets,  her  crew  is  asleep, 
Then  board  her,  and  take  her,  for  dead  men  are  cheap, 
We'll  spike  them  and  pike  them,  like  so  many  sheep. 
With  a  Heave!    Ho!    Blow  the  man  down." 

It  was  not  long  before  a  sail  was  sighted,  and,  on 
the  1 2th  day  of  January,  1695,  the  stout,  little  Francois 
overhauled  a  solitary  timber  ship,  loaded  with  huge 
trees,  bound  to  England  from  the  good  town  of  Bos- 
ton in  New  England.  She  was  an  easy  capture,  and, 
Du  Guay-Trouin  smiled  with  joy  when  her  skipper 
said: 

"  Three  other  lumber  ships  are  in  the  offing.  But 
they  are  under  convoy  of  the  frigate  Nonsuch  with 
forty-eight  guns,  and  the  Falcon  with  thirty-eight 
cannon.  Look  out  my  bold  sea-dog,  there'll  be 
trouble." 

But  the  French  mariner  laughed. 

"  It's  just  what  I'm  searching  for,"  said  he,  and 
forthwith  he  swung  the  stout  Francois  in  wide  circles, 
with  look-outs  at  every  masthead. 

"  Sail  ho ! "  shouted  the  watch,  next  mom,  and 
there,  off  the  port  bow,  were  the  three  merchantmen 
strung  out  in  a  line,  with  the  two  protecting  gun- 
boats to  windward. 

Like  a  greyhound  the  Francois  swept  down  upon 
them,  and  with  the  audacity  of  despair,  the  privateers- 
man  of  St.  Malo  ranged  alongside  of  the  Falcon  and 
opened  fire.  The  engagement  was  short.  In  an  hour's 
time  the  guns  of  the  Englishman  were  silent  and  a 
white  pennon  fluttered  from  the  mizzen-mast. 

The  Nonsuch,   meanwhile,   had  been   ranging  to 


126      FAMOUS   PRIVATEERSMEN 

windward  in  a  vain  endeavor  to  bring  her  guns  to 
bear  upon  the  Frenchman  without  crippHng  her  own 
mate,  and  —  as  the  Francois  drifted  away  from  the 
lurching  Falcon  —  she  bore  down  to  within  twenty 
yards,  luffed,  and  spanked  a  rakish  broadside  into 
the  privateer. 

"  Board  her !  "  shouted  Du  Guay-Trouin.  "  Board 
her !  "  and,  bringing  the  wheel  close  around,  he  swung 
the  bow  of  the  Francois  into  the  side  of  the  English- 
man. But,  as  the  sailors  scampered  to  the  bulwarks 
with  cutlass  and  with  dirk,  a  sheet  of  flame  burst  from 
the  port-holes  of  the  drifting  Nonsuch.     She  was  afire. 

"  Luff !  Luff !  "  cried  the  keen-eyed  French  mari- 
ner, and  the  Francois  drew  away  as  the  red  flames 
curled  upward  with  a  cruel  hiss. 

With  a  swift  turn  the  helm  again  spun  over,  under 
the  quick  hand  of  Du  Guay-Trouin,  and  the  Francois 
was  jibed  about  in  order  to  run  under  the  port  bow 
of  the  Englishman. 

"Hold,  Captain!"  cried  a  French  Lieutenant. 
"  We,  ourselves,  are  afire !  " 

As  he  spoke  —  a  direful  cloud  of  vapor  rolled  from 
the  starboard  quarter. 

"  Alack !  "  answered  the  now  furious  Renee.  "  This 
puts  an  end  to  the  fighting  of  this  day,  and  we'd  soon 
have  had  the  second  Britisher.  All  hands  below  and 
bucket  out  this  fire !  " 

So,  as  night  fell  upon  the  rolling  ocean,  the  Falcon 
lay  drifting  helplessly,  while  the  Nonsuch  and  the 
Francois  were  burning  like  two  beacons  upon  a  jut- 
ting headland. 


DU   GUAY-TROUIN  127 

As  day  broke,  the  Francois  filled  away  ( for  the  fire 
had  been  extinguished  after  an  hour's  toil)  and  ranged 
within  striking  distance  of  the  Nonsuch.  A  broad- 
side belched  from  her  starboard  guns  and  an  answer- 
ing roar  came  back  from  the  cannon  of  the  English- 
man. The  fore  and  main  masts  of  the  Nonsuch  trem- 
bled for  a  moment  —  then  tottered  and  fell  —  while 
the  gallant  Captain,  struck  in  the  chest  by  a  flying 
piece  of  shell,  fell  dying  upon  the  deck.  Du  Guay- 
Trouin  again  attempted  to  board,  at  this  moment,  but 
the  third  mast  was  shaking  and  he  was  forced  to 
sheer  off  lest  the  tangle  of  yards  and  rigging  should 
fall  and  crush  his  vessel.  He  hung  within  hailing 
distance  of  the  crippled  sea-warrior,  and,  seeing  that 
his  antagonist  was  now  helpless,  cried  out  through 
his  trumpet : 

''  Run  up  the  white  flag,  or  I'll  give  you  a  broad- 
side that  will  sink  you." 

No  answering  hail  came  from  the  deck  of  the  bat- 
tered Nonsuch,  but  the  piece  of  a  torn,  white  shirt 
was  soon  fluttering  from  the  tangled  rigging  of  the 
foremast.  Thus  the  gallant  Renee  had  defeated  two 
warships  of  equal  strength,  and  had  captured  vessels 
with  a  rich  and  valuable  cargo.  Now,  don't  you  think 
that  this  fellow  was  a  doughty  sea  rover?  And,  al- 
though the  English  made  many  excuses,  the  fact  still 
remains  that  a  single  privateer  had  conquered  double 
her  own  force  in  a  fair  and  open  fight  upon  the  high 
seas. 

The  sturdy  Francois  could  just  barely  drift  Into  St. 
Male  —  so  badly  crippled  was  she  —  but  the  rest  came 


128      FAMOUS   PRIVATEERSMEN 

safely  to  port,  in  spite  of  a  hard  gale  which  blew  down 
the  masts  of  two  of  the  lumber  boats.  And  doughty 
Renee  refitted  the  Nonsuch,  transferred  his  flag  to 
her,  called  her  the  Sans-Pareil,  and  flung  his  flag  de- 
fiantly from  her  mast-head  in  spite  of  the  fact  that 
she  was  "  made  in  England."  All  France  was  agog 
over  his  exploit. 

Now,  know  you,  that  doughty  Renee  was  a 
*'  Blue;  "  a  "  Blue  "  being  a  man  of  the  people  (the 
bourgeoisie)  who  were  not  of  aristocratic  birth.  And, 
as  the  French  Royal  Marine  was  the  most  exclusive 
body  of  officers  in  the  world,  birth  and  station  being 
necessary  for  admittance  therein,  the  titled  office- 
holders threw  up  their  hands  when  Du  Guay-Trouin's 
name  was  mentioned  for  a  place  of  command,  say- 
ing,— 

"  Why,  he's  only  a  beastly  Democrat.  Pooh !  Bah  1 
We  do  not  care  to  have  such  a  fellow  among  us." 
And  they  shrugged  their  shoulders. 

The  officers  of  the  French  Royal  Marine  wore  red 
breeches,  and,  if  by  chance  a  democrat  were  given 
a  commission,  he  had  to  appear  in  blue  small-clothes 
throughout  his  entire  career.  Very  few  of  the 
"  Blues  "  ever  came  to  be  an  Admiral,  for  the  odds 
were  too  great  against  them. 

But  Renee  had  done  so  bravely  and  well  that  a 
sword  was  sent  him  by  the  King,  who  wrote,  — 

"  Should  you  wish  a  commission  in  the  Royal  Navy, 
good  sir,  it  shall  be  yours." 

And  to  this,  Du  Guay-Trouin  replied,  — 

"  I  feel  that  I  can  do  better  where,  I  am,  Most 


DV   GUAY-TROUIN  129 

Gracious  Majesty.  (I  will  remain  a  Privateer."  For 
Du  Guay-Trouin  wished  to  accumulate  riches,  as  his 
forebears  had  done. 

So,  cruising  down  the  coast  of  Ireland,  he  fell  in 
with  three  East  Indiamen,  whom  he  captured  with 
ease,  and,  piloting  them  to  St.  Malo,  declared  a  div- 
idend of  two  thousand  pounds  ($10,000)  a  share,  to 
the  stockholders  in  his  staunch  vessel.  And  the  value 
of  the  shares  was  but  one  hundred  pounds  ($500) 
each.  Would  not  the  men  of  Wall  Street  love  such 
a  fellow  in  these  piping  times  of  peace? 

A  month  later  we  find  him  cruising  in  the  Bay  of 
Biscay,  where  —  in  the  dead  of  night  —  he  ran  into 
a  great  English  fleet,  roving  about  for  just  such  ves- 
sels as  the  Sans-Pareil  and  eager  for  a  broadside  at 
the  French  privateer.  But  young  Renee  —  for  he  was 
now  twenty-three  —  had  not  lost  his  nerve.  "  There 
was  no  time,"  he  wrote,  "  for  hesitation.  I  had  two 
valuable  prizes  with  me  and  ordered  them  to  hoist 
Dutch  colors  and  to  run  away  to  leeward,  saluting 
me  with  seven  guns  each  as  they  went. 

"  Trusting  to  the  goodness  and  soundness  of  the 
Sans-Pareil  I  stood  towards  the  fleet,  as  boldly  and 
as  peaceably  as  if  I  had  really  been  one  of  their  num- 
ber, rejoining  them  after  having  spoken  the  Dutch- 
men. Two  capital  ships  and  a  thirty-six  gun  frigate 
had  at  first  left  the  fleet  to  overhaul  me ;  but,  on  see- 
ing what  I  was  doing,  the  ships  returned  to  their 
stations ;  the  frigate  —  impelled  by  her  unlucky  fate 
—  persisted  in  endeavoring  to  speak  the  two  prizes, 
and  I  saw  that  she  was  rapidly  coming  up  with  them. 


130      FAMOUS   PRIVATEERSMEN 

"  I  had  by  this  time  joined  the  fleet,  tranquil  enough 
in  appearance,  though  inwardly  I  was  fuming  at  the 
prospect  of  my  two  prizes  being  taken  by  the  frigate; 
and,  as  I  perceived  that  my  ship  sailed  much 
better  than  those  of  the  enemy  who  were  near  me, 
I  kept  away  little  by  little,  at  the  same  time  fore- 
reaching  on  them.  Suddenly,  bearing  up,  I  ran 
down  to  place  myself  between  the  prizes  and  the 
frigate. 

"  I  should  have  liked  to  lay  aboard  of  her  and  carry 
her  in  sight  of  the  whole  fleet ;  but  her  captain,  being 
suspicious,  would  not  let  me  get  within  musket-shot 
of  him,  and  sent  his  boat  to  help  me.  But,  when  the 
boat  was  half  way,  her  people  made  out  that  we  were 
French,  and  turned  to  go  back ;  on  which,  seeing  that 
we  were  discovered,  I  hoisted  my  white  flag  and 
poured  my  broadside  into  the  frigate. 

"  She  answered  with  hers ;  but,  not  being  able  to 
sustain  my  fire,  she  hauled  her  wind,  and  with  a  signal 
of  distress  flying,  stood  to  meet  the  captain's  ship, 
which  hastily  ran  down  towards  us.  As  they  stopped 
to  render  her  assistance,  and  to  pick  up  her  boat,  I 
was  able  to  rejoin  my  prizes,  and,  without  misad- 
venture, to  take  them  to  Port  Louis." 

Again  France  rang  with  acclaim  for  the  hero  of 
this  bold  exploit,  and  again  the  King  offered  a  com- 
mission to  the  gallant  sea-dog.  But  Du  Guay-Trouin 
shook  his  head. 

"  Perhaps  I  will  become  an  officer  in  the  Royal 
Marine  later  on,"  said  he.  "  But  not  now.  I  am  too 
happy  and  successful  as  a  Privateer." 


DU   GUAY-TROUIN  131 

He  was  quite  right,  for  in  March,  1697,  ^^^  his 
greatest  exploit. 

While  busily  scanning  the  horizon  for  sail  in  the 
St.  Jacques  des  Vict  aires,  upon  the  thirteenth  day  of 
that  auspicious  month,  he  saw  upon  the  horizon,  a 
cluster  of  vessels.  They  drew  near  and  proved  to  be 
the  Dutch  East  India  fleet  convoyed  by  two  fifty-gun 
ships  and  a  thirty-gun  sloop-of-war.  With  him  was 
the  Sans-Pareil  of  forty-eight  guns,  and  the  little 
sloop-of-war  Lenore,  mounting  fourteen.  The  hos- 
tile squadron  was  formidable,  and  Du  Guay-Trouin 
hesitated  to  attack. 

In  command  of  the  Dutch  vessels  was  Baron  van 
Wassenaer,  one  of  a  family  of  famous  sea-fighters 
from  Holland,  and  he  manoeuvred  his  ships  with  con- 
summate skill;  always  interposing  his  own  vessel  be- 
tween the  French  privateer  and  his  fleet  of  merchant- 
men. 

"  Ah-ha,"  cried  gallant  Renee,  at  this  moment. 
"  Here  come  some  of  my  own  boys." 

And  —  sure  enough  —  from  the  direction  of  France, 
and  boiling  along  under  full  canvas,  rolled  two  pri- 
vateersmen  of  St.  Malo.  Cheer  after  cheer  went  up 
from  the  deck  of  the  St.  Jacques  des  Victoires,  as  they 
pounded  through  the  spray,  for  this  made  the  con- 
tending parties  about  equal,  although  the  Dutch  boats 
were  larger,  heavier,  and  they  had  more  guns  aboard. 

The  Dutchmen  now  formed  in  line.  In  front  was 
the  flagship  —  the  Delft  —  with  her  fifty  guns  glow- 
erring  ominouslv  from  the  port-holes:  second  was  the 
thirty-gun  frigate;    and  third,  the  other  war-hound 


132      FAMOUS   PEIVATEERSMEN 

of  fifty  guns :  the  Hondslaardjiik.  Through  a  trum- 
pet Du  Guay-Trouin  shrilled  his  orders. 

"  The  Sans-Pareil  will  attack  the  Hondslaardjiik," 
cried  he.  "  The  two  privateers  will  hammer  the  frig- 
ate, while  I  and  the  St.  Jacques  des  Victoires  will 
attend  to  the  Delft.  The  Lenore  will  sail  in  among 
the  convoy.     Fight,  and  fight  to  win !  " 

A  fine  breeze  rippled  the  waves.  The  two  squad- 
rons were  soon  at  each  others'  throats,  and  there  upon 
the  sobbing  ocean  a  sea-fight  took  place  which  was 
one  of  the  most  stubborn  of  the  ages. 

As  the  Frenchmen  closed  in  upon  the  Dutch,  the 
Hondslaardjiik  suddenly  left  the  line  and  crashed  a 
broadside  into  the  St.  Jacques  des  Victoires.  It  stag- 
gered her,  but  she  kept  on,  and  —  heading  straight  for 
her  lumbering  antagonist  —  ran  her  down.  A  split- 
ting of  timber,  a  crunch  of  boards,  a  growl  of  mus- 
ketry, and,  with  a  wild  cheer,  the  Frenchmen  leaped 
upon  the  deck  of  the  Dutch  warship;  Du  Guay- 
Trouin  in  the  lead,  a  cutlass  in  his  right  hand,  a  spit- 
ting pistol  in  the  left. 

Crash!  Crackle!  Crash!  An  irregular  fire  of 
muskets  and  pistols  sputtered  at  the  on-coming  board- 
ers. But  they  were  not  to  be  stopped.  With  fierce, 
vindictive  cheers  the  privateers  of  St.  Malo  hewed  a 
passage  of  blood  across  the  decking,  driving  the 
Dutchmen  below,  felling  them  upon  the  deck  in  wind- 
rows, and  seizing  the  commander  himself  by  the  coat 
collar,  after  his  cutlass  had  been  knocked  from  his 
stalwart  hand.  The  Dutchman  was  soon  a  prize,  and 
her  proud  ensign  came  fluttering  to  the  decking. 


DU   GUAY-TROUIN  133 

But  things  were  not  going  so  well  in  other  quar- 
ters. Disaster  had  attended  the  dash  of  the  Sans- 
Pareil  upon  the  Delft.  An  exploding  shell  had  set  her 
afire  and  she  lay  derelict  with  a  cloud  of  drifting 
smoke  above,  when  suddenly,  Crash! 

A  terrible  explosion  shook  the  staunch,  little  ves- 
sel, her  sides  belched  outward,  and  a  number  of  sail- 
ors came  shooting  through  the  air,  for  a  dozen  loose 
cartridge  boxes  had  been  caught  by  the  roaring  flames. 
Helplessly  she  lolled  in  the  sweep  of  the  gray,  lurching 
billows. 

"  Hah !  "  shouted  Van  Wassenaer,  as  he  saw  his 
work.  "  Now  for  the  saucy  Du  Guay-Trouin,"  and, 
twisting  the  helm  of  the  Sans-Pareil,  he  soon  neared 
the  St.  Jacques  des  Victoires,  which  was  hanging  to 
the  Delft  like  a  leech,  firing  broadside  after  broadside 
with  clock-like  precision,  her  sea-dogs  cheering  as 
the  spars  crackled,  the  rigging  tore;  and  splinters 
ricochetted  from  her  sides. 

"  Ready  about !  "  cried  Renee,  wiping  the  sweat 
from  his  brow,  "  and  board  the  Hondslaardjiik. 
Now  for  Van  Wassenaer  and  let  us  show  the 
Dutchman  how  a  privateer  from  St.  Malo  can 
battle." 

So,  luffing  around  in  the  steady  breeze,  the  priva- 
teersman  rolled  ominously  towards  the  lolling  Delft. 
A  crash,  a  sputter  of  pistols,  a  crushing  of  timber,  and 
grappling  hooks  had  pinioned  the  two  war-dogs  in  a 
sinister  embrace.  And  —  with  a  wild  yell  —  the 
Frenchmen  plunged  upon  the  reddened  decking  of  the 
flagship  of  the  courageous  Van  Wassenaer,  who  cried. 


134      FAMOUS   PRIVATEERSMEN 

"  Never  give  in,  Lads !  What  will  they  think  of  this 
in  Holland!" 

There  was  a  different  reception  than  when  the  pri- 
vateers rushed  the  Hondslaardjiik.  The  Dutch  fought 
like  wildcats.  Three  times  the  cheering,  bleeding 
Frenchmen  stormed  the  planking,  and  three  times 
they  were  hurled  back  upon  the  slippery  deck  of  their 
own  ship;  maddened,  cursing,  furious  at  their  ina- 
bility to  take  the  foreigner.  "  The  conflict  was  very 
bloody  both  by  the  very  heavy  fire  on  both  sides,  of 
guns,  muskets,  and  grenades,"  says  Du  Guay-Trouin, 
"  and  by  the  splendid  courage  of  the  Baron  Van 
Wassenaer,  who  received  me  with  astonishing  bold- 
ness." 

"  Bear  away,"  ordered  the  courageous  Dutchman, 
at  this  juncture.  "  We  must  have  time  to  recover  and 
refit  our  ship." 

And  —  suiting  the  action  to  his  words  —  the 
badly  battered  Delft  filled,  and  crept  well  to  lee- 
ward. 

Meanwhile  the  two  privateers  of  St.  Malo  had  cap- 
tured the  frigate  as  she  lay  helpless;  a  white  flag 
beckoning  for  a  prize  crew. 

"The  Fduere  will  attack  the  Delft"  shouted  Du 
Guay-Trouin,  running  near  the  largest  of  these;  a 
ship  of  thirty-eight  guns.  "  I  must  have  time  to 
breathe  and  to  refit." 

But  stubborn  Van  Wassenaer  was  ready  for  his  new 
antagonist.  He  received  the  privateer  with  such  a 
furious  fire  that  she  turned  tail  and  fled  to  leeward; 
her  captain  bleeding  upon  the  poop,  her  crew  cursing 


DU   GUAY-TROUIN  135 

the  blood  which  ran  in  the  veins  of  the  valorous 
Hollander. 

Du  Guay-Trouin  had  now  recovered  his  breath. 
Again  the  bellying  canvas  of  the  St.  Jacques  des 
Victoires  bore  her  down  upon  the  Delft,  and  again 
the  two  war-dogs  wrapped  in  deadly  embrace.  Hear 
the  invincible  Frenchman's  own  account  of  the  final 
assault : 

"  With  head  down,"  he  writes,  "  I  rushed  against 
the  redoubtable  Baron,  resolved  to  conquer  or  to 
perish.  The  last  action  was  so  sharp  and  so  bloody 
that  every  one  of  the  Dutch  officers  was  killed  or 
wounded.  Wassenaer,  himself,  received  four  danger- 
ous wounds  and  fell  on  his  quarterdeck,  where  he  was 
seized  by  my  own  brave  fellows,  his  sword  still  in  his 
hand. 

"  The  Faluere  had  her  share  in  the  engagement,  run- 
ning alongside  of  me,  and  sending  me  forty  men  on 
board  for  reinforcement.  More  than  half  of  my  own 
crew  perished  in  this  action.  I  lost  in  it  one  of  my 
cousins,  first  Lieutenant  of  my  own  ship,  and  two 
other  kinsmen  on  board  the  Sans-Pareil,  with  many 
other  officers  killed  or  wounded.  It  was  an  awful 
butchery." 

But  at  last  he  had  won,  and  the  victorious  pennon 
of  the  Privateer  fluttered  triumphant  over  the  bat- 
tered hulks  which  barely  floated  upon  the  spar-strewn 
water. 

"  The  horrors  of  the  night,"  he  writes,  "  the  dead 
and  dying  below,  the  ship  scarcely  floating,  the  swell- 
ing waves  threatening  each  moment  to  engulf  her,  the 


136      FAMOUS   PRIVATEERSMEN 

wild  howling  of  the  storm,  and  the  iron-bound  coast 
of  Bretagne  to  leeward,  were  all  together  such  as  to 
try  severely  the  courage  of  the  few  remaining  officers 
and  men. 

"  At  daybreak,  however,  the  wind  went  down ;  we 
found  ourselves  near  the  Breton  coast;  and,  upon 
our  firing  guns  and  making  signals  of  distress,  a  num- 
ber of  boats  came  to  our  assistance.  In  this  manner 
was  the  St.  Jacques  taken  into  Port  Louis,  followed  in 
the  course  of  the  day  by  the  three  Dutch  ships-of- 
war,  twelve  of  the  merchant  ships,  the  Lenore,  and 
the  two  St.  Malo  privateers.  The  Sans-Pareil  did  not 
get  in  till  the  next  day,  after  having  been  twenty  times 
upon  the  point  of  perishing  by  fire  and  tempest." 

Thus  ended  the  great  fight  of  Renee  Du  Guay- 
Trouin,  whose  blood,  you  see,  was  quite  as  blue  as 
his  breeches. 

"  Again,"  wrote  His  Majesty  the  King,  "  do  I  offer 
you  a  commission  in  the  Royal  Navy,  Du  Guay- 
Trouin.  Will  you  accept?  This  time  it  is  a  Cap- 
taincy." 

"  I  do,"  replied  little  Renee,  —  quite  simply  —  and, 
at  the  next  dinner  of  the  officers  of  the  Royal  Ma- 
rines, they  sang  a  chorus,  which  ran : 

"Oh,  yes,  he's  only  a  Democrat,  his  blood  is  hardly  blue. 
Oh,  Sacre  Nom  de  Dieu  !     Sapristi !    Eet  is  true ! 
But  he's  a  jolly  tar  dog,  with  dirk  and  pistol,  too, 
He  fights  like  William  the  Conqueror,  he  fights! 
Egad !   that's  true ! 
A  health  to  Renee  the  terrible ;   soldier  and  sailor  too." 


EDWARD  ENGLAND 
TERROR  OF  THE  SOUTH  SEAS 

(i6go?- about  1725) 


"A    Privateer's    not   a    Buccaneer,   but   they're   pretty    chummy 
friends, 
One  flies  a  reg'lar  ensign,  there's  nothing  that  offends. 
One  sails  'neath  Letters  Legal,  t'other  'neath  Cross-Bones, 
But,  both  will  sink  you,  Sailor,  or  my  name's  not  Davy  Jones." 

—  Old  Ballad. 


EDWARD    ENGLAND 

TERROR    OF    THE    SOUTH    SEAS 

{i6go?- about  1725) 

"If  England  wuz  but  wind  an'  paint, 
How  we'd  hate  him. 
But   he  ain't." 

—  Log  of  the  Royal  James. 

"  TT   X  IT   him  with   a  bottle,   he   deserves   it,   th' 

rH     brute!" 

The  man  who  spoke  was  a  thick-set  sailor 
of  some  forty-five  summers,  with  a  swarthy  skin,  a 
brownish  mat  of  hair,  a  hard  visage,  and  a  cut  across 
one  eye.  He  stood  upon  the  deck  of  a  good-sized 
brig,  which  was  drowsily  lolling  along  the  coast  of 
Africa. 

"  Yes,  he  treated  us  like  dogs  aboard  th'  Cuttlefish. 
Here,  give  me  a  shot  at  'im." 

Thus  cried  another  sailor  —  a  toughish  customer 
also  —  and,  as  his  voice  rang  out,  a  dozen  more  came 
running  to  the  spot. 

Cringing  before  the  evil  gaze  of  the  seamen  stood 
the  Captain  of  a  Bristol  merchantman  —  the  Cadogan 
—  which  lay  a  boat's  length  away,  upon  the  glassy 
surface  of  a  rocking  sea. 

Again  rang  out  the  harsh  tones  of  him  who  had 
first  spoken. 

180 


140      FAMOUS   PRIVATEERSMEN 

*'  Ah,  Captain  Skinner,  it  is  you,  eh  ?  You  are  the 
very  person  I  wished  to  see.  I  am  much  in  your  debt, 
and  I  shall  pay  you  in  your  own  coin." 

The  poor  Captain  trembled  in  every  joint,  and  said, 
with  a  curious  chattering  of  his  teeth, 

"  Yes,  Edward  England,  you've  got  me  now.  But 
go  easy  like,  will  yer?  I  always  was  a  friend  o' 
yourn." 

"  Yer  didn't  look  like  a  friend  on  th'  old  Jamaica, 
when  you  refused  to  pay  me  my  wages,"  interrupted 
the  first  speaker.  "  Yer  didn't  remove  me  to  'er  cursed 
man-o'-warsman,  did  yer?  Yer  didn't  see  that  I  got 
th'  cat-o'-nine-tails  on  my  back,  did  yer?  Now, 
Mr.  Skinner,  it's  my  chance  ter  get  even.  Tie 
him  ter  th'  windlass,  boys,  and  we'll  fix  th'  feller's 
hash." 

With  a  jeering  laugh  the  sailors  seized  the  fright- 
ened man,  roped  him  tightly  to  the  desired  prop,  and, 
procuring  a  lot  of  glass  bottles,  pelted  him  with  them 
until  their  arms  were  tired. 

"  You  wuz  a  good  master  to  me.  Captain  Skinner," 
cried  one.  "  Now  you're  gettin'  a  dose  of  your  own 
medicine.    Overboard  with  him,  Boys." 

And,  suiting  the  action  to  the  words,  he  seized  him 
by  the  collar.  The  ropes  were  unwound.  The  poor 
wretch  was  dragged  to  the  rail,  and,  as  his  body  spun 
out  into  the  oily  sea,  a  shot  ended  the  life  of  poor 
Thomas  Skinner  of  the  Cadogan  from  Bristol.  Cap- 
tain Edward  England  and  his  men  had  had  a  sweet 
and  sure  revenge. 

Where  this  reckless  mariner  was  bom,  it  is  diffi- 


EDWARD   ENGLAND  141 

cult  to  ascertain.  We  know  that  he  started  Hfe  hon- 
estly enough,  for  he  was  mate  of  a  sloop  that  sailed 
from  Jamaica,  about  the  year  171 5,  and  was  taken 
by  a  pirate  called  Captain  Winter.  The  youthful 
sailor  soon  took  up  the  careless  ways  of  his  captors, 
and  it  was  not  many  years  before  he  became  Captain 
of  his  own  vessel :  a  sloop  flying  the  black  flag  with 
a  skull  and  cross-bones. 

Off  the  east  coast  of  Africa  he  soon  took  a  ship 
called  the  Pearl,  for  which  he  exchanged  his  own 
sloop,  fitting  the  new  vessel  up  for  piratical  service, 
after  rechristening  her  the  Royal  James.  Cruising 
about  in  this  staunch  craft,  he  captured  several  ships 
of  different  sizes  and  flying  the  flags  of  many  nations. 
He  was  rich  and  prosperous. 

"  Captain,"  said  one  of  his  reckless  followers,  at 
this  time,  *'  man-o'-warsmen  are  gettin'  too  thick  in 
these  parts  for  an  honest  sailor.  Let's  get  across  th' 
pond  to  th'  Brazilian  coast." 

"  You're  quite  right,"  answered  England.  "  We've 
got  to  look  for  other  pickings.  After  we  provision-up, 
we'll  sail  towards  th'  setting  sun.  That's  a  fresh  field 
and  we  can  have  it  to  ourselves." 

So  all  made  ready  for  a  trans-Atlantic  voyage. 

But  Captain  England  was  in  error  when  he  said 
that  he  was  sailing  for  fields  which  had  never  before 
been  touched.  Two  other  piratical  vessels:  the  Re- 
venge and  the  Flying  King,  had  been  cruising  off  the 
coast  of  Brazil,  just  before  his  advent.  Fighting  in 
partnership,  they  had  taken  two  Portuguese  schooners, 
and  were  making  off  with  them,  when  a  Portuguese 


142      i^AMOUS   PEIVATEERSMEN 

man-o'-warsman  came  booming  along  under  full  can- 
vas.   She  was  an  unwelcome  guest. 

Setting  all  sail  the  two  pirates  had  attempted  to 
get  away  and  the  Revenge  succeeded  in  doing  so. 
Two  days  later  a  typhoon  struck  her  and  she  was 
soon  swinging  bottom  upwards,  with  the  kittiwakes 
shrieking  over  her  barnacled  keel. 

But  the  revengeful  man-o'-warsman  ploughed  re- 
lentlessly after  the  Flying  King,  which  could  not  fly 
quite  fast  enough,  this  time,  and  —  in  despair  —  was 
run,  bows  on,  upon  the  shore,  where  the  crew  scram- 
bled to  the  sand  in  a  desperate  endeavor  to  get  away. 
The  sailors  from  the  man-o'-warsman  were  speedy; 
they  shot  twelve  of  the  buccaneers,  took  the  rest 
prisoners  (there  were  seventy  in  all)  and  hanged 
thirty-eight  to  the  yard-arm.  News  of  this  came  to 
Captain  England  when  he  neared  the  tropic  coast  of 
Brazil. 

"  It's  all  in  a  life-time,"  said  he.  ''  If  I'm  captured, 
of  course  I'll  swing.  But,  meanwhile,  I  hope  to  have 
a  good  life." 

Not  many  days  afterwards  he  heard  the  welcome 
sound  of : 

"  Sail  ho !    Off  the  port  bow !  " 

And  raising  the  glass  to  his  eye  discovered 
two  fat,  prosperous-looking  merchant  ships,  slipping 
quietly  along  like  an  old  maid  fresh  from  market. 

"Slap  on  all  sail  and  give  chase!"  was  bellowed 
out  in  stentorian  tones,  and  the  Royal  James  was 
soon  fairly  boiling  along  with  every  stitch  aloft,  which 
she  could  carry. 


EDWARD   ENGLAND  143 

As  she  neared  the  merchantmen,  the  names  came 
plainly  to  view :  the  Peterborough  of  Bristol,  and  the 
Victory  of  Liverpool,  but  a  shot  screamed  across  the 
bowsprit  of  the  latter  and  victory  was  turned  into 
defeat.  A  white  flag  was  fluttering  at  her  mainmast 
in  a  moment,  for  the  Captain  had  no  stomach  for  a 
fight. 

"  Egad,  it's  a  pirate,"  said  the  good  seaman  in 
despair,  as  the  black  flag  with  the  skull  and  cross- 
bones  fluttered  from  the  rigging  of  his  capturer.  "  I 
thought  she  was  a  privateersman  under  Letters  of 
Marque.     It's  all  up  with  us." 

As  the  boat-load  of  boarders  came  bobbing  along- 
side he  cried  out, 

"  Mercy !  Have  mercy  upon  the  souls  of  these  poor 
wretches  who  sail  with  me." 

The  pirates  guffawed,  helped  themselves  to  every- 
thing of  value,  and  took  the  merchantmen  with  them 
to  the  coast  of  Brazil,  where  the  crew  were  allowed 
to  escape  to  the  shore.  The  Peterborough  was  re- 
christened  the  Victory  and  was  manned  by  half  of 
England's  crew,  while  the  other  vessel  was  burned  at 
night;  the  pirates  dancing  on  the  beach  to  the  light 
of  the  flames  and  singing  the  weird  songs  of  the  sea. 

Now  there  was  a  scene  of  wild  revel  upon  the  Bra- 
zilian coast;  but  the  natives  grew  angry  at  the  con- 
duct of  these  rough  men  of  the  ocean. 

"  Ugh !  "  spoke  a  chief,  "  we  must  drive  them  away, 
else  they  will  burn  our  own  villages  as  they  did  their 
houses  upon  the  water." 

One  peaceful  evening  the  followers  of  Captain  Eng- 


144      FAMOUS   PRIVATEEESMEN 

land  were  hard  beset  by  fully  a  thousand  black-skinned 
warriors  from  the  Brazilian  jungle. 

There  was  a  fierce  battle.  The  negroes  were  pressed 
back  upon  their  principal  town  and  were  driven 
through  it  on  the  run,  for  their  arrows  and  spears 
were  not  as  effective  as  the  guns  and  pistols  of  the 
English,  Dutch,  Spaniards  and  Portuguese,  who  had 
adopted  a  piratical  career.  Their  thatched  huts  were 
set  on  fire,  and,  satisfied  wnth  the  day's  work,  the 
pirates  retired  to  their  ships,  where  a  vote  was  cast 
where  was  to  be  their  next  venture.  It  fell  to  the 
East  Indies  and  the  Island  of  Madagascar.  So  they 
set  sail,  singing  an  old  ballad  which  ran, 

"Heave  the   lead  and   splice  th'   topsail. 
Tie  her  down,  and  let  her  fill, 
We're  agoin'  to  Madagascar, 
Where  th'  little  torn-tits  trill, 

"  Bill  an'  coo,  an'  sing  so  sweetly, 
In  th'  dronin'  hours  of  noon. 
That  you  want  to  die  there,  neatly. 
Just  drop  off  into  'er  swoon." 

The  voyage  across  was  a  good  one  and  the  pirates 
captured  two  East  Indiamen  and  a  Dutchman,  bound 
to  Bombay.  These  they  exchanged  for  one  of  their 
own  vessels,  and  then  set  out  for  Madagascar  Island, 
where  several  of  their  hands  were  set  ashore  with 
tents  and  ammunition,  to  kill  such  beasts  and  venison 
as  the  place  afforded. 

Then  they  sailed  for  the  Isle  of  Juanna,  —  not  a 
great  distance  from  Madagascar,  —  and  here  had  as 


EDWARD   ENGLAND  145 

keen  a  little  engagement  as  ever  employed  a  piratical 
crew.  Hear  the  story  of  this  fight  in  the  words  of 
Captain  Mackra,  an  English  sea-captain  who  happened 
at  that  time  to  be  in  the  harbor. 

"  Bombay,  November  i6th,  1720. 

"We  arrived  on  the  25th  of  July  last,  in  company 
with  the  Greenwich,  at  Juanna,  an  island  not  far  from 
Madagascar.  Putting  in  there  to  refresh  our  men, 
we  found  fourteen  pirates  who  came  in  their  canoes 
from  the  Mayotta  (island)  where  the  pirate  ship  to 
which  they  belonged,  the  Indian  Queen  —  two  hun- 
dred and  fifty  tons,  twenty-eight  guns,  commanded  by 
Captain  Oliver  de  la  Bouche,  bound  from  the  Guinea 
coast  to  the  East  Indies  —  had  been  bulged  (run 
ashore)  and  lost.  They  said  they  left  the  Captain 
and  forty  men  building  a  new  vessel,  to  proceed  upon 
their  wicked  designs. 

"  Captain  Kirby  and  I  concluding  that  it  might  be 
of  great  service  to  the  East  India  Company  to  des- 
troy such  a  nest  of  rogues,  were  ready  to  sail  for  this 
purpose  on  the  17th  of  August,  about  eight  o'clock 
in  the  morning,  when  we  discovered  two  pirates  stand- 
ing into  the  Bay  of  Juanna,  one  of  thirty-four  and 
the  other  of  thirty-six  guns. 

"  I  immediately  went  on  board  the  Greenwich  where 
they  seemed  very  diligent  in  preparation  for  an  en^ 
gagement,  and  I  left  Captain  Kirby  with  mutual 
understanding  of  standing  by  each  other.  I  then  un- 
moored, got  under  sail,  and  brought  two  boats  ahead 
to  row  me  close  to  the  Greenwich;  but  he  being  open 


146      FAMOUS   PRIVATEERSMEN 

to  a  breeze,  made  the  best  of  his  way  from  roe^  which 
an  Ostender  in  our  company  of  twenty-two  guns, 
seeing,  did  the  same,  though  the  Captain  had  prom- 
ised heartily  to  engage  with  us,  and,  I  beheve  would 
have  been  as  good  as  his  word,  if  Captain  Kirby  had 
kept  his. 

*'  About  half  an  hour  after  twelve,  I  called  several 
times  to  the  Greenwich  to  bear  down  to  our  assistance, 
and  fired  a  shot  at  him,  but  to  no  purpose ;  for,  though 
we  did  not  doubt  but  he  would  join  us,  because,  when 
he  got  about  a  league  from  us  he  brought  his  ship 
to  and  looked  on ;  yet  both  he  and  the  Ostender  basely 
deserted  us,  and  left  us  engaged  with  barbarous  and 
inhuman  enemies,  with  their  black  and  bloody  flags 
hanging  over  us,  without  the  least  appearance  of  ever 
escaping,  but  to  be  cut  to  pieces. 

''  But  God  in  his  good  providence,  determined 
otherwise;  for,  notwithstanding  their  superiority,  we 
engaged  them  both  about  three  hours,  during  which 
time  the  biggest  of  them  received  some  shot  betwixt 
wind  and  water,  which  made  her  keep  a  little  off,  to 
stop  her  leaks.  The  other  endeavored  all  she  could 
to  board  us,  by  rowing  with  her  oars,  being  within 
half  a  ship's  length  of  us  about  an  hour;  but,  by  good 
fortune,  we  shot  all  her  oars  to  pieces,  which  prevented 
them  from  getting  in  close,  and  consequently  saved  our 
lives. 

"  About  four  o'clock  most  of  the  officers  and  men 
posted  on  the  quarter-deck  being  killed  and  wounded, 
the  largest  ship  made  up  to  us  with  diligence,  after 
giving  us  a  broadside.    There  now  being  no  hopes  of 


LEFT    US    ENGAGED    WITH    BARBAROUS    AND   INHUMAN    ENEMIES. 


EDWARD    ENGLAND  147 

Captain  Kirby's  coming  to  our  assistance,  we  endeav- 
ored to  run  ashore;  and  though  we  drew  four  feet 
of  water  more  than  the  pirate,  it  pleased  God  that  he 
stuck  fast  on  a  higher  ground  than  happily  we  fell  in 
with;  so  was  disappointed  a  second  time  from  board- 
ing us. 

"  Here  we  had  a  more  violent  engagement  than 
before.  All  of  my  officers  and  most  of  my  men  be- 
haved with  unexpected  courage;  and,  as  we  had  a 
considerable  advantage  by  having  a  chance  to  hurl  a 
broadside  into  his  bow,  we  did  him  great  damage. 
Had  Captain  Kirby  come  in  then,  I  believe  we  should 
have  taken  both  the  vessels,  for  we  had  one  of  them, 
sure. 

"  The  other  pirate  (who  was  still  firing  at  us)  see- 
ing the  Greenzmch  did  not  offer  to  assist  us,  supplied 
his  consort  with  three  boats  full  of  fresh  men.  About 
five  in  the  evening  the  Greenzmch  stood  clear  away  to 
sea,  leaving  us  struggling  hard  for  life,  in  the  very 
jaws  of  death ;  which  the  other  pirate  that  was  afloat, 
seeing,  got  a  hawser  out,  and  began  to  haul  under  our 
stern. 

"  By  this  time  many  of  my  men  were  being  killed 
and  wounded,  and  no  hopes  left  us  of  escaping  being 
all  murdered  by  enraged  barbarous  conquerors,  I  or- 
dered all  that  could  to  get  into  the  long-boat,  under 
the  cover  of  the  smoke  from  our  guns;  so  that,  with 
what  some  did  in  boats,  and  others  by  swimming,  most 
of  us  that  were  able  got  ashore  by  seven  o'clock. 

"  When  the  pirates  came  aboard,  they  cut  three  of 
our  wounded  men  to  pieces.     I,  with  some  of  my 


148      FAMOUS   PRIVATEERSMEN 

people,  made  what  haste  I  could  to  Kings-town, 
twenty-five  miles  from  us;  where  I  arrived  next  day, 
almost  dead  with  the  fatigue  and  loss  of  blood,  hav- 
ing been  sorely  wounded  in  the  head  by  a  musket- 
ball. 

"  At  this  town  I  heard  that  the  pirates  had  offered 
ten  thousand  dollars  to  the  country  people  to  bring 
me  in,  which  many  of  them  would  have  accepted,  only 
they  knew  that  the  king  and  all  his  chief  people  were 
in  my  interest.  Meanwhile  I  caused  a  report  to  be 
circulated  that  I  was  dead  of  my  wounds,  which  much 
abated  their  fury. 

"  We  had,  in  all,  thirteen  killed  and  twenty-four 
wounded;  and  we  were  told  that  we  destroyed  about 
ninety,  or  a  hundred,  of  the  pirates.  I  am  persuaded 
that,  had  our  consort  the  Greenwich  done  her  duty, 
we  could  have  destroyed  both  of  them,  and  got  two 
hundred  thousand  pounds  ($1,000,000.00)  for  our 
owners  and  ourselves." 

What  say  you  to  this  fight  ?  And  to  think  that  our 
own  good  friend  Captain  Mackra  just  missed  being 
a  millionaire !    Weep  for  the  gallant  sea  warrior ! 

At  any  rate  he  got  safely  away,  for,  at  length  going 
aboard  one  of  the  piratical  vessels,  —  under  a  flag 
of  truce  —  he  discovered  that  several  of  the  wild  sea- 
robbers  knew  him ;  some  of  them  —  even  —  had 
sailed  with  him  in  earlier  years. 

"  I  found  this  to  be  of  great  advantage,"  he  writes. 
"  For,  notwithstanding  their  promise  not  to  harm  me, 
some  of  them  would  have  cut  me  to  pieces,  had  it  not 


EDWAED   ENGLAND  149 

been  for  their  chief,  Captain  Edward  England,  and 
some  others  whom  I  knew." 

And  he  used  his  powers  of  persuasion  to  such  effect 
that:  "  They  made  me  a  present  of  the  shattered  ship 
—  which  was  Dutch  built  —  called  the  Fancy,  —  her 
burden  being  about  three  hundred  tons. 

"  With  jury-masts,  and  such  other  old  sails  as  they 
left  me,  I  set  sail  on  September  8th,  with  forty-three 
of  my  ship's  crew,  including  two  passengers  and 
twelve  soldiers.  After  a  passage  of  forty-eight  days 
I  arrived  at  Bombay  on  the  26th  of  October,  almost 
naked  and  starved,  having  been  reduced  to  a  pint  of 
water  a  day,  and  almost  in  despair  of  ever  seeing 
land,  by  reason  of  the  calms  we  met  with  between  the 
coast  of  Arabia  and  Malabar." 

The  gallant  writer  of  this  interesting  description 
was  certainly  in  imminent  danger  of  his  life,  when  he 
trusted  himself  upon  the  pirate  ship,  and  unquestion- 
ably nothing  could  have  justified  such  a  hazardous 
step  but  the  desperate  circumstances  in  which  he  was 
placed.  The  honor  and  influence  of  (Captain  England, 
however,  protected  him  and  his  men  from  the  wrath 
of  the  crew,  who  would  willingly  have  wreaked  their 
vengeance  upon  those  who  had  dealt  them  such  heavy 
blows  in  the  recent  fight. 

But  the  generosity  of  Captain  England  toward  the 
unfortunate  Mackra  proved  to  be  calamitous  to  him- 
self. 

"  You  are  no  true  pirate,"  cried  one  of  his  crew. 
"  For  a  buccaneer  never  allows  his  foes  to  get  away." 

"No!     No!"    shouted    others.      "This    fighting 


150      FAMOUS   PRIVATEERSMEN 

Mackra  will  soon  come  against  us  with  a  strong  force. 
You  did  wrong  in  letting  him  escape." 

"  To  the  yard-arm  with  the  traitor !  "  sounded  from 
the  throat  of  many  a  ruffianly  seaman. 

Thus  grew  the  feeling  of  mutiny  —  and  the  result 
of  these  murmurs  of  discontent  —  was  that  Captain 
England  was  put  ashore  by  the  cruel  villains;  and, 
with  three  others  was  marooned  upon  the  island  of 
Mauritius.  Had  they  not  been  destitute  of  every 
necessity  they  might  have  been  able  to  live  in  comfort, 
for  the  island  abounds  in  deer,  hogs,  and  other  ani- 
mals. Dissatisfied,  however,  with  this  solitary  situa- 
tion, Captain  England  and  his  three  men  exerted  their 
industry  and  ingenuity,  built  a  small  boat,  and  sailed 
to  Madagascar,  where  they  lived  upon  the  generosity 
of  some  more  fortunate  piratical  companions. 

But  can  a  pirate  remain  happy  when  not  pirating? 

"  Away  with  this  life,"  cried  Captain  England.  ''  I 
pine  for  more  treasure  and  for  battle.  Let's  out  and 
to  sea ! " 

"Good!  Good!"  said  his  mates.  "Let's  ship 
aboard  another  vessel  and  get  away  from  here." 

So,  they  again  took  to  the  ocean,  but  what  became 
of  Edward  England  is  not  known. 

Some  say  that  he  was  killed  in  a  brawl ;  some  that 
he  was  again  marooned  and  was  adopted  by  a  savage 
tribe;  some  that  he  perished  in  a  fight  upon  the  In- 
dian Ocean.  At  any  rate  that  rough  and  valiant  soul 
IS  lost  to  history,  and  —  somewhere  —  in  the  vast 
solitude  of  the  Southern  Hemisphere,  lie  the  bleaching 
bones  of  him  who  had  flaunted  the  skull-and-cross- 


EDWARD   ENGLAND  151 

bones  upon  the  wide  highway  of  the  gleaming  wastes 
of  salty  brine.  His  was  a  rough  and  careless  life. 
Do  not  emulate  the  career  of  Edward  England! 

Near  the  straits  of  Madagascar ;   near  the  sobbing  oceans'  roar, 
A  ghostly  shape  glides  nightly,  by  the  beady,  kelp-strewn  shore.  — 
As  the  Cubic  monkeys  chatter;    as  the  Bulbul  lizards  hiss. 
Comes  a  clear  and  quiet  murmur,  like  a  Zulu  lover's  kiss. 
The  flying-fishes  scatter;    the  chattering  magpies  scream, 
The  topaz  hummers  dart  and  dip;   their  jewelled  feathers  gleam. 
The  mud-grimed  hippos  bellow ;   the  dove-eyed  elands  bleat, 
When  the  clank  of  steel  disturbs  them,  and  the  beat  of  sandalled 

feet. 
The  pirate  crew  is  out  to-night,  no  rest  is  for  their  souls, 
The  blood  of  martyrs  moves  them;   they  charge  a  million  tolls. 
On!    On!    Their  souls  must  hasten.     On!    On!    Their  shapes 

must  go, 
While  the  limpid  rushes  quiver,  and  the  beast-lapped  waters  glow. 
No  rest  for  Captain  England.     No  rest,  for  King  or  pawn, 
On!    On!   Their  feet  must  wander.     On!    On!    Forever  on! 


SONG   OF  THE    PIRATE 

*To  the  mast  nail  our  jflag!    it  is  dark  as  the  grave, 
Or  the  death  which  it  bears  while  it  sweeps  o'er  the  wave; 
Let  our  decks  clear  for  action,  our  guns  be  prepared; 
Be  the  boarding-axe  sharpened,  the  scimetar  bared : 
Set  the  canisters  ready,  and  then  bring  to  me. 
For  the  last  of  my  duties,  the  powder-room  key. 
It  shall  never  be  lowered,  the  black  flag  we  bear, 
If  the  sea  be  denied  us,  we  sweep  through  the  air. 
Unshared  have  we  left  our  last  victory's  prey; 
It  is  mine  to  divide  it,  and  yours  to  obey : 
There  are  shawls  that  might  suit  a  Sultana's  white  neck. 
And  pearls  that  are  fair  as  the  arms  they  will  deck; 
There  are  flasks  which,  unseal  them,  the  air  will  disclose 
Diametta's  fair  summers,  the  home  of  the  rose. 
I  claim  not  a  portion :   I  ask  but  as  mine  — 
But  to  drink  to  our  victory  —  one  cup  of  red  wine. 
Some  fight,  'tis  for  riches  —  some  fight,  'tis  for  fame : 
The  first  I  despise,  and  the  last  is  a  name. 
I  fight  'tis  for  vengeance!     I  love  to  see  flow, 
At  the  stroke  of  my  sabre,  the  life  of  my  foe. 
I  strike  for  the  memory  of  long-vanished  years; 
I  only  shed  blood  where  another  sheds  tears, 
I  come,  as  the  lightning  comes  red  from  above. 
O'er  the  race  that  I  loathe,  to  the  battle  I  love." 


WOODES  ROGERS 
THE  BRISTOL  MARINER 

(?-i736) 


If  you  want  to  win  a  lass,  or  a  sea  fight;  don't  cajole.   Sail  in ! 

—  Old  Proverb. 


WOODES    ROGERS 

THE    BRISTOL    MARINER 

(P-I736) 

For  he  can  fight  a  Spaniard,  like  a  Tipperary  cat, 

For  he  can  sack  a  city,  like  a  blawsted,  rangy  rat ; 

Woodes  Rogers  was  a  Gentleman,  from  Bristol-town  he  sailed. 

An'  his  crew  came  from  th'  prisons,  an'  were 

Bailed, 
Bailed, 
Bailed. 

"  ^TES,  you  can  have  the  Duke  and  the  Duchess. 
I  They  are  both  staunch  craft  and  we  expect 
to  get  a  good  return  for  our  investment  in 
them." 

The  fellow  who  spoke  —  a  stout-bodied  Quaker  — 
looked  quizzically  at  a  bronzed  sea-captain,  who,  cap 
in  hand,  stood  before  him.  By  his  side  were  seated 
a  number  of  merchants,  —  fat,  sleek,  contented-look- 
ing. They  were  giving  instructions  to  Captain  Woodes 
Rogers :  their  privateersman,  who  was  about  to  make 
a  voyage  of  adventure  in  their  behalf. 

"  My  good  friends,"  said  the  mariner,  "  I  shall  do 
my  very  best  for  you  all.  The  French  and  Spaniards 
have  been  having  it  all  their  own  way  in  the  South 
seas.  It  is  about  time  that  the  English  had  a  share  in 
the  rich  spoils  of  that  treasure  highway.  I  shall  work 
my  hardest  for  you." 


156      FAMOUS   PRIVATEERSMEN 

The  merchants,  ship-owners  and  Quakers  nodded. 

"  May  Providence  guide  your  course  aright,"  said 
they.  And  —  as  Captain  Woodes  Rogers  went  off  to 
inspect  his  privateersmen  —  all  indulged  in  a  glass  of 
Madeira  to  pledge  "  good  luck  and  good  health  "  to  the 
staunch  seaman  from  Bristol. 

It  was  not  many  weeks  before  the  Duke  (of  three 
hundred  and  twenty  tons)  with  thirty  guns  and  one 
hundred  and  seventeen  men,  and  the  Duchess  (of  two 
hundred  and  sixty  tons)  with  twenty-six  guns  and  one 
hundred  and  eight  men,  sailed  from  King  Road  for 
Cork,  in  Ireland. 

"  Egad !  "  cried  Captain  Rogers,  as  they  passed  out 
to  sea.  "  Our  rigging  is  slack.  Our  decks  are 
lumbered  up.  Our  stores  are  badly  stowed.  Our  crew 
is  so  very  mixed  that  I  must  stop  in  Ireland  to  get  more 
able  sea-dogs.    Was  ever  captain  in  a  worse  fix?  " 

His  Lieutenants  grinned,  for  they  saw  that  things 
were  in  a  sorry  mess,  indeed. 

"  Most  of  us  have  embraced  this  trip  around  the 
world  in  order  to  retrieve  our  fortunes,"  continued 
the  captain.  "  Did  you  ever  see  a  harder  crew  than 
this?  There  are  tinkers,  tailors,  haymakers,  pedlers, 
fiddlers,  a  negro  and  ten  boys.  None  know  how  to  use 
the  cutlass  and  they  haven't  got  any  sea-legs.  Well, 
well;  I'll  make  the  best  of  it,  but  it's  hard  goin',  I 
assure  you." 

And  still  the  Lieutenants  grinned. 

They  grinned  still  more  when  they  had  lain  a  few 
days  at  Cork,  for  the  crew  were  continually  marrying, 
although  they  expected  to  sail  immediately.    However, 


WOODES   ROGERS  157 

as  the  two  privateers  got  under  way  on  September  ist, 

—  with  the  Hastings,  sl  man-of-war  —  the  majority  of 
the  crew  drank  a  health  to  their  spouses ;  waved  their 
hands  to  them  over  the  rail ;  and  "  parted  uncon- 
cerned."   Truly,  a  sailor  has  a  lass  in  every  port. 

Not  many  days  after  their  out-going,  a  sail  was 
sighted  and  all  speed  was  made  to  capture  her.  The 
Swedish  colors  fluttered  from  her  mast-head,  and  she 
hove  to  at  the  first  gun.    Rogers  boarded. 

"  No  contraband  goods  are  here,"  said  he,  after 
looking  into  the  hold.    "  We  must  let  her  off." 

Then  —  turning  to  her  captain  —  he  said, 

"  You  can  go.    I  am  not  a  pirate  —  but  a  privateer 

—  sailing  under  Letters  of  Marque.  I  only  seize  goods 
that  are  contraband." 

Bobbing  and  courtesying  on  the  waves,  the  little 
Swede  soon  drifted  from  view. 

But  the  crew  grew  mutinous,  —  for  had  they  not 
come  out  for  plunder?  The  boatswain  even  called 
Rogers  a  traitor. 

"  Seize  the  fellow  and  flog  him,"  cried  the  sturdy 
captain.  "  Put  ten  of  these  talkative  hounds  in  irons. 
We'll  do  the  talking  on  this  boat,  and  the  sailors  must 
do  theirs  in  the  fo'castle." 

This  was  done  immediately. 

Next  day  a  seaman  came  aft,  with  near  half  the 
ship's  company  in  his  rear,  and  cried : 

*'  I  demand  the  boatswain  out  of  his  irons.  Captain 
Rogers.  He's  done  nothing  to  deserve  such  a  severe 
punishment." 

"  Speak  with  me  privately,  on  the  quarter-deck," 


158      FAMOUS    PRIVATEERSMEN 

said  the  bluff  commander.  "  I  cannot  discuss  this 
matter  with  you  in  such  a  crowd."    And  he  moved  aft. 

The  grumbler  followed,  but,  no  sooner  was  he  alone 
with  stout  Woodes,  than  the  captain  sprang  upon  him 
with  the  agility  of  a  leopard.  He  was  thrown  to  the 
ground,  held,  and  bound  by  two  officers.  Then  he  was 
stripped  and  whipped  until  the  blood  ran. 

"  This  method,"  writes  the  doughty  Woodes,  "  I 
deemed  best  for  breaking  any  unlawful  friendship 
among  the  mutinous  crew.  It  allayed  the  tumult,  so 
that  they  began  to  submit  quietly  and  those  in  irons 
begged  my  pardon,  and  promised  amendment." 

Thus  the  captain  had  won  the  first  round  with  the 
mutineers. 

Now,  know  you,  that  the  War  of  the  Spanish  Suc- 
cession was  then  in  progress ;  a  war  in  which  one  party 
was  endeavoring  to  put  the  Archduke  Charles  of  Aus- 
tria upon  the  Spanish  throne ;  another  to  place  Philip, 
grandson  of  Louis  XIV  of  France,  in  the  chair  of  the 
rulers.  And  when  —  a  few  days  later  —  the  two  priva- 
teers captured  a  small  Spanish  vessel,  they  found  that 
their  possession  of  it  was  disputed,  when  they  sailed 
into  the  Canaries. 

"  It  has  been  agreed  between  Queen  Anne  of  Eng- 
land and  the  Kings  of  Spain  and  France,"  said  the 
Vice-Consul  of  that  place  —  an  Englishman  —  "  that 
all  vessels  trading  to  the  Canary  Isles  shall  be  exempt 
from  interference  by  men-o'-war,  or  privateers.  The 
prize  must  be  released.  If  you  do  not  do  so,  we  will 
keep  your  agent,  Mr.  Vanbrugh,  who  has  come  ashore, 
and  will  throw  him  into  irons." 


WOODES   ROGERS  159 

But  the  Vice-Consul  had  reckoned  without  his  host. 

"  We  are  apprehensive  that  you  are  obHged  to  give 
us  this  advice  in  order  to  gratify  the  Spaniards,"  wrote 
Captain  Rogers.  *'  If  you  do  not  allow  my  agent  to 
come  on  board  my  ship,  you  may  expect  a  visit  from 
my  guns  at  eight  o'clock  to-morrow  morn." 

To  this  there  was  no  reply. 

Next  day  the  two  English  privateers  stood  in  close 
to  shore,  and,  just  as  the  shot  was  rammed  home,  a 
boat  put  off,  in  the  stern  of  which  sat  Mr.  Vanbrugh 
with  a  present  of  wine,  grapes,  hogs  and  jelly.  The 
prize  which  had  been  captured  was  sent  back  to  Bristol 
with  a  picked  crew. 

The  two  sea-rovers  bore  towards  the  South  —  soon 
crossed  the  Tropic  of  Cancer  —  and  there  had  appro- 
priate ceremonies  for  the  occasion.  The  tinkers,  ped- 
dlers fiddlers,  and  tailors  who  made  up  the  crew,  were 
each  and  all  hoisted  overboard  by  a  rope.  A  stick 
was  placed  between  their  legs  and  they  were  ducked 
again  and  again  in  the  brine. 

"  If  any  man  wants  to  get  off,"  spoke  Captain 
Rogers,  "  he  can  do  so  by  paying  me  a  half-a-sovereign 
($2.50)  which  must  be  expended  on  an  entertainment 
for  the  rest  of  the  company  when  England  shall  be 
reached.  Every  man  that  is  ducked  is  paid  in  pro- 
portion to  the  number  of  times  that  he  goes  under." 

Several  accepted  this  offer.  At  which  a  sailor  cried 
out: 

"  Duck  me  twelve  times.  Captain.  I  want  to  have 
a  regular  orgy  when  I  get  back  home." 

And  the  sailors  did  it,  laughing  uproariously. 


160      FAMOUS   PEIVATEERSMEN 

Sailing  to  the  Cape  Verde  Islands,  the  Duke  and  the 
Duchess  anchored  in  the  harbor  of  St.  Vincent,  where 
one  of  the  crew,  who  was  a  good  linguist  (Joseph 
Alexander)  was  sent  in  a  boat  to  the  Governor,  at 
San  Antonio,  in  order  to  negotiate  for  supplies.  He 
seemed  to  prefer  Cape  Verde  to  privateering. 

"  On  October  6th,"  writes  the  gallant  Rogers,  "  our 
boat  went  to  San  Antonio  to  get  our  linguist,  accord- 
ing to  appointment.     No  news  of  him." 

"  On  October  6th,  our  boat  returned  with  nothing 
but  limes  and  tobacco.    No  news  of  our  linguist." 

*'  On  October  7th,  no  news  of  our  linguist." 

"  On  the  8th,  boat  sent  ashore,  but  no  news  of  our 
linguist." 

**  On  the  9th,  as  the  trade-winds  are  blowing  fresh, 
concluded  to  leave  our  good  Alexander  to  practice  his 
linguistic  and  other  accomplishments  ashore.  Adieu 
to  our  linguist." 

Thus  disappeared  the  sleek  and  crafty  Joseph. 

There  was  still  trouble  from  insubordination,  for 
Mr.  Page  —  second  mate  of  the  Duchess  —  refused 
to  accompany  Mr.  Cook  (second  in  command  on  the 
Duke).  Whereupon  the  hot-tempered  Captain  Cook 
—  being  the  superior  officer  on  board  —  struck  him, 
and  several  blows  were  interchanged. 

At  last  Page  was  forced  into  the  boat  and  brought 
to  the  Duke,  where  he  was  ordered  to  the  forecastle  in 
the  bilboes  (leg  irons  sliding  upon  a  long,  iron  bar). 
But  he  jumped  overboard  —  despising  the  chance  of 
being  gobbled  up  by  a  shark  —  and  started  to  swim 
to  his  own  ship.     He  was  brought  back,  flogged,  and 


WOODES   ROGERS  161 

put  in  irons;  and  he  evidently  found  a  week  of  this 
kind  of  thing  sufficient;  for  he  submitted  himself 
humbly  to  future  orders. 

Thus  Woodes  Rogers  had  already  learned  that  the 
life  of  a  privateer  commander  was  not  a  happy  one. 

Steering  southwest,  a  large  French  ship  was  seen 
and  chased,  but  she  got  away  from  the  two  consorts 
with  surprising  ease.  On  March  6th,  when  off  the 
coast  of  Peru,  a  sail  was  sighted. 

"  Let  the  Dtichess  bear  down  on  her  port  and  the 
Duke  to  starboard,"  cried  Captain  Rogers.  "  Heave 
a  solid  shot  across  her  bow,  and,  if  she  refuses  to 
capitulate,  let  her  have  your  broadsides." 

Dipping,  tossing,  rolling;  the  two  privateers 
swooped  down  upon  their  prey,  like  hawks.  She 
flew  the  yellow  flag  of  Spain  —  and  —  as  the  first 
ball  of  lead  cut  across  her  bow-sprit,  it  fluttered  to  the 
deck.  Up  went  a  white  shirt,  tied  to  a  rat-line,  and 
the  crew  from  the  Duke  was  soon  in  charge,  and  steer- 
ing her  for  Lobas :    a  harbor  on  the  coast. 

"  She's  a  tight  little  barque,"  said  Rogers,  when 
he  had  landed.     "  I'll  make  her  into  a  privateer." 

So  she  was  hauled  up,  cleaned,  launched,  and 
christened  the  Beginning;  with  a  spare  top-mast 
from  the  Duke  as  a  mast,  and  an  odd  mizzen-topsail 
altered  for  a  sail.  Four  swivel-guns  were  mounted 
upon  her  deck,  and,  as  she  pounded  out  of  the  bay, 
loud  cheers  greeted  her  from  the  decks  of  the  Duchess, 
which  was  loafing  outside,  watching  for  a  merchant- 
man to  capture  and  pillage. 

Next  morn  two  sails  were  sighted,  and  both  Duke 


162      FAMOUS   PRIVATEERSMEN 

and  Duchess  hastened  to  make  another  haul.  As  they 
neared  them,  one  was  seen  to  be  a  stout  cruiser  from 
Lima ;  the  other  a  French-built  barque  from  Panama ; 
richly  laden,  it  was  thought. 

"  Broadsides  for  both,"  ordered  Woodes  Rogers. 
"  Broadsides  and  good  treatment  when  the  white  flag 
flutters  aloft." 

As  the  Duchess  chased  the  Lima  boat,  the  Duke 
neared  the  Frenchman  and  spanked  a  shot  at  her  from 
a  bow-gun.  The  sea  ran  high  and  she  did  not  wish  to 
get  too  close  and  board,  because  it  would  be  easier  to 
send  her  men  in  pinnaces. 

"  They're  afraid !  "  cried  the  Captain  of  the  Duke. 
**  We  can  take  'em  with  no  exertion."  But  he  was 
like  many  an  Englishman :  despised  his  foe  only  to 
find  him  a  valiant  one. 

Piling  into  four  boats,  the  men  from  the  Duke,  fully 
armed,  rowed  swiftly  towards  the  rolling  Frenchman. 
They  approached  to  within  twenty  yards.    Then 

Crash!   Crash!   Rattle!   Crash! 

A  sheet  of  flame  burst  from  her  sides ;  muskets  and 
pistols  spoke;  cannon  spat  grape  and  cannister;  the 
Englishmen  were  frightfully  cut  up. 

"On!  On!"  shouted  young  John  Rogers  —  a 
brother  of  Woodes  —  as  he  waved  his  cutlass  aloft 
to  enliven  the  sailors.  But  it  was  his  last  cry.  A 
bullet  struck  him  in  the  forehead,  and  he  fell  into  the 
sea  without  a  murmur. 

Crash!  Crash! 

Again  roared  out  a  volley.  Oars  were  splintered. 
One  boat  was  pierced  below  the  water  line.     She  sank, 


WOODES   ROGERS  163 

and  her  men  floundered  about  upon  the  surface  of  the 
oily  sea. 

"  Bear  off,  and  rescue  our  comrades !  "  cried  the 
leaders  of  this  futile  attack,  and,  as  the  French  barque 
drifted  away,  the  remaining  boats  busied  themselves 
with  the  swimming  sailors.  The  assault  had  been  a 
complete  failure. 

''Curses  upon  the  Frenchman!"  cried  Captain 
Rogers  when  he  saw  the  saucy  fighter  drawing  off. 
"  We'll  go  after  her  to-morrow,  and  catch  her,  or  my 
blood's  not  English.     What  say  you,  men?" 

"  Yes.  After  her  and  board  her  amid-ships !  "  cried 
all.     "  Run  our  own  vessel  alongside." 

"  And  that  I  will  do,"  answered  Rogers,  watching 
the  lumbering  merchantman  through  his  glass.  "  She's 
entirely  too  well  armed  for  a  trader." 

When  morning  dawned,  the  Frenchman  was  still 
ploughing  along  the  coast  in  the  light  breeze,  with  all 
sail  set.  But  there  was  not  wind  enough  to  force  her 
ahead  of  her  pursuer.  The  Duchess  now  returned 
from  her  chase  of  the  Lima  boat,  and,  joining  her 
Duke,  bore  in  upon  the  able  fighter  from  the  open  sea. 

"  Egad !  We'll  have  her  yet,"  shouted  Captain 
Rogers,  rubbing  his  hands. 

"  She  luffs !  "  cried  a  lieutenant.  "  She's  coming 
to!" 

Sure  enough  the  Frenchman  saw  that  resistance 
now  was  useless.  She  staggered  into  the  wind,  and  a 
white  flag  beckoned  for  a  prize-crew  to  come  and  take 
her. 

"  And,"  writes  Captain  Rogers,  "  I  found  that  a 


164      FAMOUS   PRIVATEERSMEN 

Bishop  who  had  been  aboard  of  her,  had  been  put 
ashore,  which  gave  me  much  grief.  For  I  always  love 
to  catch  fat  prelates,  as  they  give  up  a  stout  sum  as 
their  ransom.     In  truth  they  are  nice  pickings." 

Things  were  going  well  with  the  wild  rovers  from 
Bristol.  Plunder  there  was  a-plenty  and  the  holds  of 
the  Duke  and  the  Duchess  bulged  with  treasure.  Yet 
Woodes  Rogers  was  not  satisfied. 

"  On !  On  to  Guayaquil !  "  cried  he.  "  We'll  cap- 
ture this  wealthy  city;  demand  a  great  ransom;  and 
sail  to  England,  richer  than  the  Spanish  conquerors  of 
the  Incas." 

"  Hurrah !  "  shouted  his  staunch  followers.  "  On ! 
On !  to  Guayaquil !  " 

So  —  steering  for  the  coast  of  Ecuador  —  the  priva- 
teers drew  near  this  rich  Spanish-American  town.  A 
gulf  lay  before  their  eyes  in  which  was  a  small  island; 
with  a  little,  white-housed  village  (called  Puna)  on  its 
Eastern  shore. 

"  Take  the  place !  "  cried  Rogers,  as  the  two  ships 
forged  into  the  sleepy  shallows,  and  rounded  to  before 
the  peaceful  habitation. 

With  a  cheer,  the  sailors  piled  into  the  boats,  rowed 
ashore,  and  —  with  cutlass  and  dirk  in  hand  —  pressed 
through  the  narrow  streets.  Shots  rang  out  from  a  few 
of  the  thatched  houses ;  two  seamen  fell  to  the  ground 
with  mortal  wounds;  but,  cheering  wildly,  the  priva- 
teers rushed  through  the  narrow  highway;  pressed 
into  the  court-house ;  and  seized  upon  the  Lieutenant- 
Governor  of  the  town  of  Guayaquil,  as  he  was  attempt- 
ing to  hide  behind  an  old  clothes-press. 


WOODES   ROGERS  165 

'*  Let  no  man  get  away  in  order  to  warn  the  large 
town  of  our  approach !  "  shouted  Captain  Rogers. 
"  Catch  all  who  dash  for  the  canoes  upon  the  beach ! " 

''  Crush  the  bloomin'  canoes !  "  yelled  Cook,  as  he 
saw  some  of  the  natives  running  towards  them  on  the 
sandy  shore.  "  Crush  the  canoes  before  the  devils 
can  get  there!  " 

"  All  right!  "  answered  several  of  his  men,  as  they 
ran  for  the  clusters  of  boats.  "  We'll  put  holes  in 
them !  " 

As  they  hurried  forward,  several  of  the  natives  were 
ahead.  Two  jumped  into  the  bark  boats  and  paddled 
furiously  for  Guayaquil.  The  2ip,  sip  of  bullets  nipped 
the  water  around  them,  but,  —  with  desperate  sweeps 
—  they  dug  their  blades  into  the  sea  and  got  safely 
off.  As  a  result,  the  city  was  all  ready  and  prepared 
for  the  invaders. 

"  Ho !  Ho !  "  laughed  Rogers,  as  he  thumbed  the 
papers  of  the  Lieutenant-Governor.     "  What  is  this  ?  " 

"  A  warning  to  the  townsfolk  of  Guayaquil,"  said 
one  of  his  men,  as  he  peered  over  his  shoulder. 

Rogers  chuckled. 

"  Beware,  all  you  people  "  —  he  read  —  "of  a 
squadron  from  the  faraway  isles  of  Great  Britain 
which  is  coming  shortly  upon  you.  There  will  be  full 
ten  great  ships,  heavily  manned  and  well  armed  for 
attack.  The  arch  rogue,  William  Dampier,  will  be  in 
control,  —  he  who  has  plundered  Puna  before.  Be 
on  your  guard,  citizens!  Be  prepared!  Arm  your- 
selves !  " 

"  Hah !    Hah  !  "  laughed  the  free-booting  captain. 


166      FAMOUS   PRIVATEEESMEN 

"  They  think  I'm  Dampier.  That's  good.  But  we'll 
have  a  tough  time  with  them,  for  they  know  that  we 
mean  to  assault  their  pretty  little  town." 

His  followers  looked  solemn. 

"  Let's  attack,  right  away,"  cried  several,  "  before 
the  Spaniards  have  time  to  prepare  for  our  charge!  " 

Rogers,  however,  would  not  hear  of  it. 

''  We  must  rest.  Equip  ourselves.  Place  cannon 
in  the  bows  of  our  boats,  and  then  we  will  be  ready." 

His  men  murmured,  but  they  knew  that  when 
Rogers  had  made  up  his  mind  upon  a  thing,  there  was 
no  use  in  endeavoring  to  dissuade  him.  So  they  col- 
lected what  plunder  was  to  be  had  and  awaited  his 
further  orders. 

Two  days  later  all  was  ready  for  the  advance.  It 
was  near  midnight  —  upon  April  22nd,  —  when  the 
command  was  passed  around : 

"  Muffle  your  oars  and  take  the  town!  " 

With  one  hundred  and  ten  men  in  the  jolly  boats,  the 
privateers  neared  the  sleepy,  little  seaport.  Not  a 
sound  broke  the  silence,  save  the  drip,  drip  of  the 
sweeps,  yet,  as  they  approached  the  white-washed  walls 
of  the  lower  town,  —  a  bonfire  was  touched  off  upon 
the  shore. 

"  *Tis  well,"  whispered  a  stout  sailor.  "  Now  we 
can  see  to  shoot !  " 

As  he  said  this,  many  lights  appeared  in  the  houses 
of  Guayaquil.     The  townspeople  were  wide  awake. 

"  What  means  this,  sirrah  ?  "  thundered  Rogers  at 
a  native  guide,  who  was  piloting  him  to  the  shore. 

The  fellow  had  a  ready  answer. 


WOODES   ROGERS  167 

"  Tis  the  celebration  of  All  Saints  Day/'  he  an- 
swered smiling.  "  The  people  here  are  good  Chris- 
tians." 

"  They  know  that  we  are  coming,"  growled  the 
English  captain,  for,  as  the  native  spoke,  a  Spaniard 
upon  the  shore  was  heard  to  shout : 

"  Puna  has  been  captured !  The  enemy  is  advancing ! 
Arm !   Arm !  " 

Bells  clanged  from  the  steeples  of  the  little  churches. 
Muskets  and  guns  went  off.  Black  masses  could  be 
seen  surging  into  the  streets.  Cannon  roared,  and  a 
screeching  shot  spun  ahead  of  the  on-coming  boats. 

"  'Tis  nothing,"  said  Rogers.  "  The  alarm  has  only 
just  been  given.  Preparations  are  not  complete  and 
we  can  rush  them,  easily." 

But  Captain  Cook  had  his  own  opinion  upon  the 
affair. 

"  The  Buccaneers,"  said  he,  "  never  attack  any  large 
place  after  it  is  alarmed.    My  advice  is  to  keep  away." 

"  Don't  go  in,"  cried  several.  "  Wait  and  rush 
them  when  they  are  not  so  well  prepared." 

Even  the  men  seemed  disinclined  to  advance. 

Thus  cautious  counsel  prevailed :  the  boats  dropped 
down-stream  again  —  about  three  miles  below  the 
town  —  and  were  joined  by  two  small  barques.  They 
were  prizes  which  had  been  recently  captured.  Here 
the  flotilla  lay  while  the  cries  in  the  city  grew  inaudi- 
ble, —  for  the  inhabitants  saw  that  the  attack  had 
been  avoided. 

When  flood-tide  came,  Captain  Rogers  once  more 
ordered  an  advance  upon  the  town. 


168      FAMOUS   PRIVATEERSMEN 

"No!  No!"  argued  Dover.  "They  are  too  well 
prepared.  Night  will  cloak  our  movements,  so  we 
should  then  go  on..  I,  myself,  advise  the  sending  of 
a  trumpeter  with  a  flag  of  truce.  He  shall  propose 
that  we  make  some  trades  with  the  people  of  this 
place.'' 

"  Your  measure  is  half-hearted,"  said  Rogers,  with 
heat.  "  You  are  a  craven  knave.  Let's  rush  the  town 
like  Englishmen  and  heroes !  " 

Again  cautious  counsel  prevailed.  Two  prisoners  — 
a  Lieutenant  from  Puna,  and  the  Captain  of  the 
Frenchman  of  recent  capture  —  were  sent  to  parley 
with  the  Spaniards. 

"  The  English  are  afraid !  "  whispered  the  inhabit- 
ants. "  Let  us  keep  them  off  with  braggadocio,  and 
mayhap  reinforcements  will  come  to  us." 

So  they  bickered  and  delayed. 

"  These  dogs  would  palaver  forever,"  said  Captain 
Rogers,  when  negotiations  had  proceeded  for  full  two 
days  without  result.  "  I,  for  one,  am  for  attacking 
the  city  right  now !  " 

"Yes!  On!  On !"  cried  his  men. 

Even  the  cautious  Dover  was  ready  to  advance; 
so,  landing  upon  the  beach,  the  one  hundred  and 
ten  ran  towards  the  town  with  a  wild,  exultant 
whoop! 

Zip!  Zip!  came  the  bullets  from  the  nearer  houses, 
as  the  privateers  advanced. 

Boom!  Boom!  sounded  the  guns  from  the  Duchess 
and  the  Duke,  which  had  edged  up  near  the  wharves 
and    anchored.      Shells    shrieked    and    burst;     guns 


WOODES    ROGERS  169 

roared;  and,  with  a  hoarse  cheer,  the  EngHsh  beat 
down  two  Hnes  of  Spaniards  who  opposed  them. 

Back,  back,  they  crushed  the  defenders  of  Guayaquil 
to  the  market-place  in  the  centre  of  the  town,  where 
four  cannon  were  drawn  up  behind  a  barricade  which 
was  flanked  by  cavalry. 

Crash!  Crash!  they  roared  at  the  on-coming  pri- 
vateers, and  many  a  man  went  down  before  the 
exploding  grape  and  cannister.  But  the  blood  of  the 
English  was  now  up. 

"  Take  the  guns ! "  shouted  Woodes  Rogers. 
"  Scale  the  barricade  and  spike  the  pieces !  " 

With  a  mighty  roar  the  jack- tars  ran  for  the  en- 
gines of  death ;  leaping  over  the  wall  of  the  defenses ; 
bayonetting  the  gunners;  turning  the  spitting  war- 
engines  upon  the  cavalry,  which,  in  confusion  and  dis- 
may, was  driven  down  a  crooked  lane.  It  was  the  last 
stand.  The  English  standard  soon  waved  from  the 
flag-pole  of  the  House  of  Justice. 

"  And  now,"  cried  Captain  Rogers,  gleefully,  "  I'll 
meet  the  worthy  Padres  and  treat  with  them  for  a 
ransom.  We'll  make  them  pay  full  well  to  get  back 
the  neat  little  town  of  Guayaquil." 

Crestfallen  and  abashed,  the  city  fathers  were  soon 
brought  before  the  privateer. 

"  Sefior,"  said  they,  "  your  men  can  fight  like  devils. 
Senor,  you  are  the  first  man  to  have  taken  our  town, 
and  many  a  Buccaneer  has  endeavored  to  do  so !  " 

Captain  Rogers  smiled. 

"  Tut !  Tut !  "  said  he.  "  The  English  can  always 
battle.     But  —  Fathers  —  you  must  pay  me  well  for 


170      FAMOUS   PRIVATEERSMEN 

this  affair.  I  demand  thirty  thousand  pieces  of  eight 
($35>ooo  or  about  £6,750)  as  ransom  for  your  fair 
city.     I  will  give  you  two  days  in  which  to  collect  it." 

The  worthy  Padres  hung  their  heads. 

"  You  English,"  said  they,  "  are  cruel  extortioners." 

Yet  —  in  two  day's  time  —  the  British  marched  to 
their  boats  with  colors  flying,  bugles  blowing,  and 
drums  beating  a  rollicking  tattoo.  Captain  Rogers 
brought  up  the  rear  with  a  few  men.  He  had  secured 
the  ransom  and  fairly  smiled  with  exuberant  joy. 
"  Our  sailors,"  says  he,  "  kept  continually  dropping 
their  pistols,  cutlasses,  and  pole-axes;  which  shows 
they  had  grown  careless  and  very  weak  —  weary  of 
being  soldiers  —  and  it  was  high  time  that  we  should 
be  gone  from  hence  to  the  shores  of  Merrie  England." 

Thus,  on  April  28th,  when  the  Duke  and  the  Duchess 
weighed  anchor  and  stood  out  to  sea :  guns  roared : 
trumpets  blew  :   the  men  cheered. 

"  And  so,"  writes  the  gallant  Rogers,  "  we  took  leave 
of  the  Spaniards  very  cheerfully,  but  not  half  so  well 
pleased  as  we  should  have  been  if  we  had  taken  'em  by 
surprise;  for  I  was  well  assured  from  all  hands,  that 
at  least  we  should  then  have  got  about  two  hundred 
thousand  pieces  of  eight  in  money  (£45,000  or 
$225,000)  ;  and  in  jewels,  diamonds,  and  wrought 
and  un wrought  gold  and  silver." 


The  owners  of  the  two  privateers :  the  Duke  and  the 
Duchess,  sat  in  solemn  meeting  at  the  good  town  of 
Bristol.    It  was  the  month  of  October,  171 1. 


.WOODES   ROGERS  171 

The  fat  Quakers  were  smiling,  for  Captain  Rogers 
had  brought  them  back  equally  fat  moneys. 

The  rugged  merchants  laughed,  for  the  venture  had 
been  a  howling  success. 

"And  you  were  wounded?"  said  a  stockholder, 
turning  to  the  bronzed  sea-rover  who  stood  before 
them,  giving  account  and  reckoning  of  his  jour- 
ney to  the  Spanish  Main. 

"  A  scratch,"  replied  the  stout  sea-dog,  smiling. 
"  When  we  tackled  a  Manila  ship  on  the  way  home 
from  Guayaquil,  I  got  a  ball  through  the  jaw,  and  a 
splinter  in  the  left  foot.  It  laid  me  up  for  full  three 
weeks,  but,  gentlemen,  a  cat  and  Woodes  Rogers  both 
have  nine  lives." 

And  even  the  sober  Quaker  fathers  laughed  at  this 
sally. 

"  You  have  done  well,"  they  said.  "  We  will  reward 
you  with  money  and  a  good  berth.  How  would  you 
care  to  be  Governor  of  the  Bahamas?  " 

"  Fine !  "  said  Woodes  Rogers,  chuckling. 

And  that  is  the  way  the  old  sea-barnacle  spent  his 
declining  years,  dying  at  the  tropic  isle  on  July  i6th, 
1732.    Hail  to  this  Prince  of  Privateers! 


TWILIGHT   AT   SEA 

The  twilight  hours  like  birds  flew  by. 

As  lightly  and  as  free ; 

Ten  thousand  stars  were  in  the  sky, 

Ten  thousand  on  the  sea; 

For  every  wave  with  dimpled  face, 

That  leaped  up  in  the  air, 

Had  caught  a  star  in  its  embrace. 

And  held  it  trembling  there. 


FORTUNATUS   WRIGHT 

IHE   MOST  HATED   PRIVATEERSMAN   OF 

THE   MEDITERRANEAN   SEA 

(1715-1765) 


"  It  was  a  high  counsel  which  I  once  heard  given  to  a  young 
person:  'Always  do  what  you  are  afraid  to  do.'"  —  Emerson. 


FORTUNATUS    WRIGHT 

THE    MOST    HATED    PRIVATEERSMAN    OF 

THE    MEDITERRANEAN    SEA 

(1715-1765) 

'"Be  sure  you're  right,   then  go   ahead!'    was  coined  by   An- 
drew Jackson, 
Who  was  a  fighter,  tough  as  nails,  and  loved  to  lay  the  whacks 

on, 
He  followed  out  this  sage  advice,  in  spite  of  opposition, 
While   everybody  winked   and   said,  —  'A   Fellow   with   a  Mis- 
sion! ' 
In  other  days,  in  other  climes,  there  lived  a  seaman  daring, 
Who  loved  a  fight,  as  well  as  he,  —  was  just  as  good  at  swearing; 
His  name  was  Wright,  and  thus  in  spite  of  all  his  foemen  said. 
Old  Fortune  Wright,  was  surely  right,  whene'er  he  went  ahead !  '* 
—  Chants  of  the  Eastern  Clipper  Ships.  —  1846. 

IN  the  year  1744  war  was  declared  between  Eng- 
land and  France.  French  privateers  harried  the 
coast  of  her  rival,  caught  her  merchantmen  when- 
ever they  ventured  away  from  stout  men-o-warsmen, 
and  chased  them  in  the  blue,  shimmering  waters  of 
the  Mediterranean.  It  seemed  as  if  there  were  never 
gun-boats  enough  to  protect  the  British  shipping,  and 
thus  many  of  the  English  merchants  grew  choleric  and 
angry. 

Englishmen  carried  on  quite  a  trade  with   Italy, 
Greece,  and  the  countries  of  Asia  Minor,  and  at  Leg- 

175 


176      FAMOUS   PRIVATEERSMEN 

horn  —  upon  the  ItaHan  coast  —  they  had  numerous 
trading  shops  and  docks  for  their  own  vessels.  They 
began  to  suffer,  not  only  great  annoyance,  but  also 
great  loss,  from  the  depredations  of  the  French  pri- 
vateers which  swarmed  about  the  harbor  mouth  and 
scurried  into  every  corner  of  the  ragged  coast-line. 
Their  trade  was  hampered,  their  ships  compelled  to 
remain  in  port,  or  —  if  they  ventured  out  —  they 
were  inevitably  captured.  The  situation  was  unbear- 
able. 

"  My !  My !  "  said  one  of  the  red-faced  merchants. 
'*  My !  My !  We  must  have  a  remedy  for  this.  My ! 
My !    We  must  have  our  own  privateers !  " 

"  Well  spoken,"  cried  another.  "  And  I  know  the 
very  man  to  help  us  out.  He  is  living  here,  now,  and 
his  name  is  Fortunatus  Wright.  Gentlemen!  I  tell 
you  he  is  a  true  sea-dog!  He  is  the  fellow  to  cripple 
these  saucy,  French  bush-whackers  of  the  sea." 

"  Hear !    Hear !  "  cried  others. 

And  thus  Mr.  Fortunatus  Wright  was  sought  for, 
and  was  asked : 

"  Will  you  take  charge  of  a  privateer  for  the  British 
merchants  of  Leghorn  ?  Will  you  chase  these  rascally 
Frenchmen  ?  Will  you  cripple  their  operations  ?  Will 
you  chastise  these  sea-robbers  ?  " 

To  this  Mr.  Fortunatus  Wright,  being  a  true  sea- 
man with  the  love  of  the  salt  water  tugging  at  his 
heart  strings,  is  said  to  have  remarked, 

"Whoop-ee!" 

Which  being  interpreted  means: 

"  Gentlemen,  Fm  dee-lighted !  " 


FORTUNATUS   WRIGHT  177 

As  luck  would  have  it,  there  was  a  vessel  lying  in 
the  harbor  which  was  directly  available.  She  was  a 
brigantine  called  the  Fame,  and,  although  we  know 
little  about  her  tonnage  and  the  number  of  stout  sea- 
dogs  whom  she  could  carry,  it  is  apparent  that  Fortu- 
natus  Wright  considered  her  most  admirably  suited 
lor  his  venture.  At  any  rate  he  soon  boarded  her, 
swore  in  a  crew  of  stalwart  seamen,  and  saw  that 
plenty  of  gunpowder,  cutlasses,  boarding-pikes  and 
muskets  were  aboard. 

It  was  September,  1746,  and,  before  the  close  of 
the  month  of  December,  the  Fame  had  captured  eight- 
een prizes,  one  of  which  was  a  hulking,  French  pri- 
vateer with  twenty  guns  and  one  hundred  and  fifty 
men,  especially  fitted  out  to  put  an  end  to  the  career 
of  the  vessel  of  Fortunatus  Wright.  They  had  met 
off  the  port  of  Messina  and  had  had  a  roaring,  little 
scrimmage,  but  —  seeing  that  matters  were  going  ill 
with  him  —  the  French  captain  had  cried  : 

"  Run  for  the  shore !  Run  our  ship  aground !  We 
will  fix  her  so  that  this  English  hound  cannot  make 
a  prize  of  us !  " 

"Voila!  Voila!"  his  men  had  shouted.  "Oui! 
We  will  f-e-e-x  th-e-es  Eengleesh  chien!  Oui!  Au 
revoir,  Monsieur  Wright!  " 

So  saying,  the  privateer  had  been  run  upon  the 
sandy  beach,  bows  on,  where  her  crew  took  to  the 
brush,  yelling  derisively  at  the  Fame  as  she  came  up 
within  hail,  —  sails  snug  down  so  as  to  move  cau- 
tiously. 

The  Frenchmen  had  counted  without  their  host. 


178      FAMOUS   PRIVATEERSMEN 

"  We'll  float  her,  my  hearties ! "  cried  Wright. 
"  All  hands  ashore  in  the  small  boats.  Tie  hawsers 
to  her  stern  and  pull  her  off!  " 

This  they  did,  while  the  French  captain,  far  back 
in  the  brush,  saw  it  and  fairly  boiled  with  disappoint- 
ment and  rage. 

"  Zees  Wright,"  he  blustered.  "  One  cannot  out- 
weet  heem." 

So  the  privateer  was  towed  into  the  harbor  of  Leg- 
horn, where  all  the  English  merchants  cried : 

"  Good !  Good !  Now  we  have  a  true  man  to  fight 
our  battles !     Huzza  for  Fortunatus  Wright !  " 

The  French  were  furious,  while  at  the  island  of 
Malta  (where  were  numerous  French,  Spanish,  Aus- 
trian and  English  traders)  the  feeling  grew  intense. 
Here  the  Austrians  sided  with  the  English  and  several 
duels  were  fought  by  angry  officers,  as  crafty  Fortu- 
natus Wright  continued  to  send  in  his  prizes. 

Finally  the  French  merchants  forwarded  a  missive 
to  Marseilles,  in  France,  which  ran: 

"  Can  the  French  be  further  humiliated  by  this  cor- 
sair—  this  robber  —  Fortunatus  Wright?  Let  our 
people  fit  out  a  privateer  sufficiently  large  to  cope  with 
him,  and  let  her  defeat  and  cripple  this  fellow.  Make 
haste,  for  he  is  doing  much  damage !  " 

An  answer  came  back. 

"  Before  a  month  is  gone,  Monsieur  Wright  will  no 
more  harass  your  privateers.  What  we  have  deter- 
mined to  do,  we  shall  do!  " 

Word  of  this  was  brought  to  Captain  Fortunatus 
Wright  and  he  only  smiled  broadly.     "  There'll  be 


FORTUNATUS   WRIGHT  179 

another  ship  to  bring  into  Malta,  care  of  F.  Wright, 
Esq.,"  said  he.  "  And  it  will  be  labelled  Collect  on 
Delivery." 

Not  three  weeks  later  the  French  vessel  came 
jauntily  into  the  harbor  of  Malta.  The  captain  was  a 
man  of  considerable  repute  as  a  seaman  and  fighter, 
and  he  was  warmly  received  by  the  French.  They 
invited  him  to  many  dinners. 

"  Voila !  "  said  they.  "  Here  is  the  fellow  to  do  the 
tr-e-e-k.  Tenez !  There  will  soon  be  one  b-e-eg  mince 
pie  we-eth  Captain  Wright  eenside.     Ha !    Ha !  " 

It  is  never  well  to  count  your  chickens  before  they 
hatch  or  to  pat  a  man  upon  the  back  before  he  has 
won  a  victory. 

Eagerly  the  French  captain  cruised  outside,  contin- 
ually upon  the  watch  for  slippery  Skipper  Wright. 
His  vessel  was  superior  to  the  Fame  in  numbers  of 
both  guns  and  men.  He  was  sure  of  victory.  "  If 
only  the  hated  Englishman  would  appear !  "  he  grum- 
bled. 

Meanwhile  the  excitement  and  expectation  at  Malta 
became  intense.  Finally  it  was  noised  abroad  that  the 
terrible  privateer  had  been  sighted  about  five  miles  off 
the  harbor.  All  factions  were  aroused :  the  Austrians 
and  English  slapping  the  French  and  Spaniards  upon 
the  back,  and  saying,  "  Now  there  will  be  a  chance 
to  sink  bold  Captain  Wright,  Messieurs !  " 

To  which  the  irritable  Frenchmen  would  answer, 
"  Ah !  Yes !  He  will  be  gobbled  up  like  Jonah  by  the 
whale.    Pouff!" 

The  French  privateer  sailed  out  to  meet  the  foe, 


180      FAMOUS   PRIVATEERSMEN 

and  soon  her  white  canvas  had  disappeared  from  view 
around  a  jutting  headland.  The  stranger  ran  off. 
The  Frenchman  pursued,  and  soon  both  were  lost  to 
the  eager  gaze  of  the  population  of  Malta,  which 
crowded  every  headland,  eager  and  expectant  for  the 
bloody  battle.    The  shore  was  black  with  people. 

Hours  passed.  Another  day  came  and  with  it  the 
news  that  two  vessels  had  been  sighted  off  the  entrance 
to  the  harbor.  Hundreds  rushed  to  the  headlands  and 
cliffs  in  order  to  see  the  victor  and  the  vanquished, 
for  two  cruisers  were  approaching,  the  one  towing 
the  other. 

"  Huzzah !  "  shouted  an  enthusiastic  Frenchman. 
"  We  have  won !  See  —  up  go  the  French  colors  upon 
the  first  vessel.  The  other  —  poof  —  eet  ees  a  jelly. 
Eet  ees  pounded  to  ze  shreds." 

"  Huzzah !  "  shouted  all  of  his  compatriots,  and 
they  danced  about,  shaking  hands,  embracing,  and 
waving  their  hats  and  their  handkerchiefs. 

"  Ce  cher  Wright !  "  cried  they.  "  He  ees  een  the 
soup,  eh  ?  " 

And  what  of  the  Englishmen? 

They  —  of  course  —  said  nothing,  but  bit  their 
lips,  looked  at  their  Austrian  friends,  and  hung  their 
heads  dejectedly. 

Here  is  the  most  beautiful  part  of  all  this  story, 
for  Fortunatus  Wright,  my  boys,  was  a  joker  —  a 
real,  true  end  man  in  a  minstrel  show  —  and  he  was 
having  his  fun  with  "  the  Frenchies."  His  vessel  — 
indeed  —  had  come  off  victorious,  in  spite  of  the  fact 
that  she  had  been  much  more  shattered  than  the  other 


FORTUNATUS   WEIGHT  181 

contestant.  Therefore,  Wright  had  put  her  in  tow 
of  the  captured  Frenchman,  which  he,  himself,  was 
steering,  with  the  crew  of  his  opponent  down  in  the 
hold,  as  prisoners  of  war. 

Seeing  the  crowded  headlands  and  swarming  ram- 
parts in  the  harbor,  he  could  not  resist  the  temptation 
of  hoisting  the  flag  of  France.  He  chuckled  as  he  saw 
the  effect  it  produced  upon  the  crowd,  then  —  as  the 
vessels  rounded  a  fort  at  the  entrance  to  the  harbor  — 
down  came  the  colors  of  France  and  up  went  the  Eng- 
lish flag  to  the  peak,  with  the  French  flag  below. 

And  then  —  well,  you  can  imagine  how  the  Eng- 
lishmen and  Austrians  yelled,  and  how  the  poor 
Frenchmen  beat  a  hasty  flight  for  their  homes.  For- 
tunatus  Wright  had  had  a  sweet  revenge.  He  laughed 
long  and  hard,  while  the  Frenchmen  said,  "  Curse 
heem!  He  ees  a  devil!  A  thousand  curses  upon  the 
head  of  thees  Wright!  Sapristi!  "  And  they  did  not 
open  any  more  bottles  of  wine  for  their  supposedly 
great  captain  from  Marseilles. 

As  for  Fortunatus  Wright,  he  continued  to  harass 
the  French  and  get  into  trouble,  as  the  following  anec- 
dote well  shows. 

Not  long  after  his  famous  battle,  he  was  travelling 
in  Italy  with  introductions  to  many  of  the  nobility, 
and  arrived  —  one  day  —  before  the  city  gates  of 
Lucca.  Here  was  stationed  a  guard,  and  a  sentinel 
scrutinized  him  with  great  care  and  deliberation. 

Fortunatus  Wright  grew  impatient. 

"  Can  I  not  go  by?  "  said  he,  "  My  passports  are 
correct ! " 


182      FAMOUS   PRIVATEERSMEN 

"  No !  No !  "  answered  the  soldier.  "  I  no  likea 
zose  peestols  in  your  belta.  You  must  deeliver  them 
to  me  before  you  can  go  to  ze  ceety." 

The  EngHsh  sea-captain  said  nothing,  but  the  color 
rose  in  his  cheeks.  In  an  instant  he  raised  one  of  his 
pistols  and  pointed  it  at  the  head  of  the  astonished 
sentry. 

"  The  first  man  that  endeavors  to  take  my  weapons 
from  me,"  he  yelled,  '*  does  so  at  the  cost  of  his  life!  " 

The  guardsman  was  flabbergasted. 

"  Corporal  of  the  Guard !  Post  Number  Two !  "  he 
shouted,  presenting  his  musket  at  the  same  instant, 
and  pointing  it  at  the  head  of  the  irascible  Captain 
Wright. 

Immediately  a  dozen  soldiers  came  running  to  the 
spot.  They  surrounded  the  irate  English  traveller. 
He  was  ordered  to  "  Throw  up  your  hands !  " 

"  You  air  one  mad  Englishmana !  "  said  the  Officer 
of  the  Guard.  "  Here.  Comea  weeth  usa !  We  weel 
feexa  youa ! " 

Seeing  that  the  odds  were  too  much  against  him. 
Captain  Wright  allowed  himself  to  be  taken  to  the 
guard  house,  while  a  soldier  was  dispatched  to  the 
British  Ambassador  in  order  to  explain  that  "  they 
had  captured  an  Englishman  as  mad  as  a  mad  dog!  " 

Things  looked  bad  for  the  great  privateersman. 
But  was  his  name  not  Fortunatus?  And  was  not 
good  fortune  always  with  him? 

A  nobleman  to  whom  the  bold  mariner  had  a  letter 
now  intervened  in  his  favor,  and  secured  the  release 
of  the  high-tempered  man-of-the-sea.     On  the  morn- 


FORTUNATUS   WRIGHT  183 

ing  of  the  fourth  day  of  his  captivity,  and  at  the  early 
hour  of  four,  a  soldier  waked  Captain  Fortunatus 
Wright,  who  was  peacefully  sleeping  at  a  military 
prison.     A  missive  was  handed  him,  and  he  read: 

"  Seigneur  Wright  :  —  Since  you  have  been  so 
daring  as  to  attempt  to  enter  the  town  of  Lucca  by 
force,  it  is  therefore  ordered  that  you  shall  now  leave 
the  State  and  never  presume  to  enter  it  again,  without 
leave  from  the  Republic.  Post-horses,  with  a  guard  to 
see  you  over  the  border,  are  now  ready  for  you.  We 
trust  that  you  shall  have  a  safe  journey. 
"  By  order  of  the 

"  Governor  of  Lucca." 

"  These  Italians  are  the  most  unreasonable  people 
alive,"  growled  Captain  Wright.  But  he  pocketed 
both  his  pride  and  his  pistols,  entered  the  post-chaise 
at  the  door,  and  was  soon  rolling  forth  for  other  parts. 
In  spite  of  this  order  —  he  continued  to  reside  in 
Italy,  with  the  true  independence  of  a  privateersman. 

In  December,  1746,  the  bold  seafarer  made  an  ex- 
ceptionally good  capture:  a  French  vessel  on  a  voy- 
age from  Marseilles  to  Naples,  with  a  rich  cargo  and 
the  servants  and  luggage  of  a  real  potentate,  —  the 
Prince  of  Campo  Florida. 

When  valorous  Wright  stepped  aboard  of  her,  her 
captain  was  scraping  and  bowing  near  the  rail. 

"  Ah,  Seigneur ! "  said  he,  **  you  have  taken  me, 
that  Is  true.  But  you  cannot  touch  my  cargo  or  my 
men.     See,  —  here  Is  a  pass  from  King  George  the 


184      B^AMOUS   PRIVATEERSMEN 

Second  of  England.  It  says,  '  All  of  the  cargo,  pas- 
sengers, and  crew  of  La  Belle  Florence  shall  be  ex- 
empt from  molestation  by  English  cruisers  and  priva- 
teers.    What  say  you  to  that  ?  " 

Captain  Wright  looked  sad,  but  he  seized  the  paper 
and  read  it  with  care.  His  smile  broadened  as  he 
perused  the  document. 

"  How  am  I  to  know  that  this  particular  ship  is  to 
go  free?  "  said  he.  ''  For  although  you  told  me  that 
the  name  of  your  vessel  {La  Belle  Florence)  was  men- 
tioned in  this  document,  I  do  not  find  that  it  is  men- 
tioned. The  paper  merely  states  that  '  the  vessel ' 
shall  not  be  molested,  and,  my  boy,  you  may  have 
stolen  this  from  some  other  skipper.  Ah!  Ha!  You 
are  my  prize  and  shall  go  with  me  into  Leghorn." 

You  should  have  seen  the  face  of  the  French- 
man! 

"  I  vill  haf  revenge !  "  said  he.     And  he  had  it. 

For,  when  the  matter  was  referred  to  the  British 
Minister,  he  turned  it  over  to  the  Admiral  who  com- 
manded the  English  ships  at  this  station,  and  this 
high  official  made  Captain  Wright  give  up  both  vessel 
and  cargo.  He  did  so  with  the  same  unwillingness 
that  he  had  shown  when  asked  to  leave  the  quaint, 
little  town  of  Lucca.  Captain  Wright,  you  see,  had 
that  bull-dog  stubbornness  which  is  characteristic  of 
men  of  the  British  Isles.  He  believed  in  hanging  on 
to  everything  which  he  took. 

A  bit  later,  this  trait  got  him  into  serious  difficulties 
and  into  prison. 

A  number  of  English  merchants  were  trading  with 


FORTUNATUS   WEIGHT  185 

the  people  of  Turkey  under  the  name  of  "  The  Com- 
pany of  EngHsh  Merchants  trading  to  the  Levant 
Sea,"  and,  finding  it  impossible  to  ship  all  of  their 
goods  in  British  vessels,  they  often  sent  them  in  the 
holds  of  French  ships.  True  it  was  that  France  was 
at  war  with  England  at  this  time,  but,  as  these  were 
English  cargoes,  the  British  naturally  thought  that 
they  should  be  allowed  to  come  through,  unmolested, 
even  though  the  French  vessels  might  be  captured  by 
English  privateers.  But  they  had  not  reckoned  with 
Fortunatus  Wright. 

Two  French  clipper  ships  were  scudding  quietly 
along  off  the  Italian  coast,  one  bright  day  in  June  of 
1747,  when  a  rakish  vessel  appeared  upon  the  horizon 
and  speedily  bore  down  upon  them.  They  crowded 
on  sail,  but  they  could  not  outdistance  their  pursuer, 
who  was  soon  near  enough  to  fire  a  gun  across  the 
bow  of  the  foremost,  and  flaunt  the  English  colors 
in  her  face. 

"  Helas !  "  growled  the  French  skipper.  "  Eet  ees 
that  devil,  ze  Captain  Wright.  Eet  is  all  up  with 
me!    Helas!" 

So  he  came  to  and  surrendered ;  but  the  other  fellow 
pounded  away  at  the  British  privateer  with  a  couple 
of  swivel  guns  and  put  up  a  smart,  little  skirmish 
before  a  well-directed  shot  from  the  deck  of  the  Eng- 
lishman, knocked  a  topmast  crashing  over  the  port 
side.     Crippled,  she  surrendered. 

It  did  not  take  Captain  Wright  long  to  sail  into 
Leghorn  harbor  with  his  prizes.  The  holds  were 
filled  with  bales  of  rich  goods,  marked :  "  The  prop- 


186      FAMOUS   PRIVATEERSMEN 

erty  of  the  Company  of  English  Merchants  trading 
to  the  Levant  Sea." 

''  I'll  sell  the  bloomin'  cargoes,"  cried  Wright. 
"  For  the  vessels  were  under  the  French  flag  and 
we're  at  war  with  that  nation.  Besides  this,  one  of 
them  put  up  a  fight  against  me." 

Thus  —  the  cargoes  were  sold  —  Captain  Fortuna- 
tus  pocketed  the  money,  and  went  upon  his  way,  re- 
joicing. 

But  he  did  not  rejoice  very  long,  for  the  British 
merchants  were  furious  with  anger,  and  procured  — 
through  some  means  or  other  —  an  order  from  the 
English  Government  to  the  effect  that  English  cargoes 
in  French  vessels  were  not  to  be  touched  —  when  cap- 
tured by  British  privateers.  Word  was  sent  to  Cap- 
tain Wright  to  refund  the  money  which  he  had  secured 
by  the  sale  of  the  cargoes  captured  in  the  French  ships, 
and  the  property  of  "  The  Company  of  English  Mer- 
chants trading  to  the  Levant  Sea." 

To  this  Captain  Wright  answered,  "  Bah !  I  have 
the  money.     I  intend  to  keep  it !  " 

Orders  were  sent  from  England  to  have  this  fellow 
arrested  and  shipped  home;  so  the  Italian  police 
obligingly  captured  the  old  sea-dog,  locked  him  up, 
and  kept  him  in  jail  for  six  months,  while  the  attor- 
neys fought  over  the  legality  of  the  affair. 

At  length  the  bluff  privateersman  was  allowed  to 
go  free,  and  —  he  never  paid  back  the  money.  "  These 
fellows  attacked  me  at  law,"  he  wrote,  "  but  I  have 
not  acted  contrary  to  it.  I  am  an  Englishman.  I  am 
acting  under  a  commission  from  the  King  of  England, 


FORTUNATUS   WRIGHT  187 

and,  when  we  are  at  war  with  France,  I  intend  to 
hold  and  keep  all  the  cargoes  which  I  capture  in 
French  vessels.  As  for  this  '  English  Company  tra- 
ding to  the  Levant  Sea ! '  let  them  learn  a  lesson  and 
pack  their  goods  in  future  in  English  vessels.  English 
oak  should  be  good  enough  for  English  cargoes." 

The  "  English  Company  trading  to  the  Levant  Sea  " 
had  certainly  learned  that  Fortunatus  Wright  was  as 
stubborn  as  a  mule,  and  —  in  the  future  —  they  em- 
ployed no  French  vessels  to  carry  their  bales  of  com- 
merce. A  wise  dog  only  allows  himself  to  he  bitten 
once. 

France  and  England  now  came  to  a  peaceable  set- 
tlement of  their  difficulties,  but  in  1755  war  broke  out 
afresh.  Fortunatus  Wright  chuckled,  for  he  itched 
for  another  brush  upon  the  wide  sweep  of  the  ocean, 
and  a  chance  to  take  a  prize  or  two.  So  the  Fame 
not  being  available,  he  had  a  small  vessel  constructed 
at  Leghorn,  and  called  her  the  Saint  George.  She  was 
a  fast  sailer  and  was  as  graceful  as  a  sea-gull.  "  In 
this  fair  ship,"  said  he,  as  he  gazed  upon  her  admir- 
ingly, "  I  shall  take  many  a  prize  and  shall  have,  J 
trust,  many  a  sharp  adventure.  Saint  George,  I  salute 
you !     May  you  bring  me  only  the  best  of  luck !  " 

Trouble  was  in  store  for  the  well-hated  mariner 
even  before  he  turned  his  vessel's  prow  into  the  Medi- 
terranean, for  —  in  spite  of  the  fact  that  the  Italians 
were  neutral  —  their  sympathies  were  strongly  with 
France,  and  they  looked  with  decided  disfavor  upon 
the  graceful  hull  of  the  Saint  George,  as  she  bobbed 
serenely  upon  the  surface  of  the  bay.     Knowing  full 


18S      FAMOUS   PRIVATEERSMEN 

well  the  reputation  of  this  famous  seaman,  they  paid 
particular  attention  to  his  little  craft,  and  sent  a  num- 
ber of  officials  to  inspect  her.  In  a  few  days  the  in- 
trepid Fortunatus  received  the  information  that,  as  his 
was  a  merchant  vessel,  he  must  carry  a  crew  of  only 
five-and-twenty  men,  and  an  armament  of  four  small 
guns. 

At  this  the  old  sea-dog  only  laughed,  and  exhibited 
the  greatest  anxiety  to  comply  with  the  requirements 
of  the  law. 

"  I  would  suggest,"  said  he  to  one  of  the  officials 
of  the  town.  "  That  you  keep  guard-boats  rowing 
around  my  ship  in  order  to  be  sure  that  I  do  not  take 
on  more  guns  and  men  than  the  law  permits,  before 
I  set  sail." 

The  officer  smiled.  "  We  are  watching  you 
closely,"  said  he.  "  For  Monsieur  Wright,  it  is  said 
that  you  are  as  crafty  as  a  cat !  " 

The  mariner  grinned,  and,  before  going  to  sea, 
obtained  from  the  Governor,  a  certificate  to  the  effect 
that  he  had  complied  with  all  the  requirements  of  the 
law. 

Armed  with  this,  on  July  28th,  1756,  he  put  to  sea, 
in  company  with  four  merchant  vessels  laden  with 
valuable  cargoes,  and  bound  for  the  shores  of  Eng- 
land. Carefully  the  Saint  George  had  been  watched, 
so  carefully,  in  fact,  that  the  authorities  had  over- 
looked the  lading  of  the  other  vessels,  aboard  which 
numerous  guns,  howitzers,  and  hand-spikes  had  been 
smuggled,  besides  a  number  of  seamen  who  were 
well-experienced  in  fighting  upon  the  ocean.     It  is 


PORTUNATUS   WRIGHT  189 

true  that  Fortunatus  Wright  was  as  crafty  as  a  cat, 
or  —  as  they  say  in  Maine  —  "  You'd  have  to  git  up 
early  if  yer  wanted  ter  lick  him." 

Not  only  had  the  officials  at  Leghorn  watched  every 
move  of  this  well-known  privateersman,  but  they  had 
sent  word  to  the  French  that  Wright  had  only  a  feeble 
force,  that  he  was  accompanying  several  rich  prizes, 
and  that  he  could  be  easily  beaten  and  captured  by  a 
vessel  of  any  size.  So  much  hated  was  he,  that  it  is 
said  the  French  king  had  promised  Knighthood  and 
a  handsome  life  pension  to  the  sailor  who  could  bring 
Wright  to  the  shores  of  France  dead  or  alive.  The 
merchants  of  Marseilles  were  particularly  bitter  against 
him,  for  he  had  captured  many  of  their  ships,  and  in 
the  market-place  (where  all  could  see  it)  had  been 
posted  a  placard,  which  ran: 

"ALL    SAILORS    AND    SEAMEN    ATTENTION  I 

To  the  person,  or  persons,  who  will  capture  and  bring  to 
France,  the  body  of  the  arch-villain  Captain  Fortunatus  Wright, 
shall  be  given 

A    SUM    DOUBLE    THE    VALUE    OF    WRIGHT's    VESSEL. 

Frenchmen!  Catch  this  Thief!  Bring  him  in  Dead  or  Alive! 
Do  your  Duty! 

This  sum  is  guaranteed  by  the  Merchants  and  Ship-owners  of 
Marseilles,  and  the  Chamber  of  Commerce." 

Wright  had  heard  of  this,  and  it  sent  a  grim  look 
into  his  eyes.  He  also  heard  that  a  vessel  was  cruis- 
ing outside  the  harbor  in  wait  for  him,  and  thus  he 
was  not  surprised,  as  he  saw  a  large  boat  upon  his 


190      FAMOUS   PEIVATEERSMEN 

port  bow,  when  only  a  few  hours'  sail  from  the  snug 
harbor  of  Leghorn. 

This  vessel  —  a  zebeque  —  had  been  waiting  for  the 
well-hated  privateersman  for  several  days,  as  her  cap- 
tain had  been  warned  by  the  Italians  that  Wright  was 
about  to  set  sail.  She  had  three  masts,  each  carrying 
a  huge,  three-cornered  sail,  sixteen  guns  of  consider- 
able size,  and  several  swivels.  Her  crew  numbered 
two  hundred  and  eighty  men,  well  armed  and  eager 
for  a  brush  with  the  famous  Fortunatus,  whose  pro- 
verbial good  fortune  seemed  now  to  have  deserted 
him. 

Rounding  to,  Wright  signalled  to  his  merchantmen 
to  draw  near  and  hurriedly  transported  some  of  the 
cannon,  which  he  had  smuggled,  to  his  own  vessel. 
He  also  added  to  his  small  crew,  so  that  —  when  the 
zebeque  came  pounding  down  within  shooting  dis- 
tance —  he  had  increased  his  sailors  from  twenty- 
five  to  seventy-five,  and  his  guns,  from  four  to 
twelve. 

"  Now  let  the  Frenchie  come  on !  "  he  cried.  "  Fm 
half  prepared,  but  Fll  give  her  a  warmer  welcome  than 
she  ever  had  in  all  her  career !  " 

"  Huzzah !  Huzzah !  "  shouted  his  men,  who  v^ere 
a  motley  collection  of  all  nationalities :  Italians,  Eng- 
lish, Portuguese,  Dutch,  Germans,  and  a  few  Arabs. 
"Huzzah!  Huzzah!  Wright  forever ! "  The  Arabs, 
of  course,  didn't  say  this,  but  they  tried  to. 

The  French  were  very  confident,  and,  as  they  came 
within  range  of  the  guns  of  the  little  Saint  George 
they  began  to  sing  a  hymn  of  victory,  while  their 


FORTUNATUS   WRIGHT  191 

captain  already  saw,  in  his  hands,  the  rich  reward 
offered  by  the  good  citizens  of  Marseilles. 

"  Poof!  "  he  chuckled.  "  Monsieur  Wright,  he  soon 
take  dinnaire  in  my  cabin.     Poof!" 

But  Monsieur  Wright  was  a  different  fellow  than 
he  imagined,  and  his  men  —  although  of  all  nationali- 
ties —  were  so  animated  by  his  stirring  and  martial 
spirit,  that  they  fought  better  than  they  had  ever 
fought  in  their  lives  before.  You  all  know  how  nec- 
essary to  success  "  Spirit "  is  in  a  foot-ball  team,  or 
a  base-ball  nine.  The  team  which  has  the  do-or-dare 
spirit,  the  never-give-up-until-the-last-gun-is-fired  de- 
termination, is  usually  the  team  that  wins.  And  the 
spirit  of  the  captain  is  the  controlling  factor  in 
any  contest.  If  he  be  no  desperate  fighter,  his 
followers  will  not  be  desperate  fighters.  If  he  is 
weak-kneed  in  a  crisis,  his  followers  will  be  weak- 
kneed. 

So  this  motley  crew,  under  Fortunatus  Wright, 
cheered  onward  by  the  dauntless  navigator,  fought  as 
they  had  never  fought  before.  Arab  and  German 
strove  as  well  as  Englishman  and  Italian  to  battle 
strenuously  beneath  the  eye  of  the  famous  privateers- 
man.  They  had  never  been  together  before,  but,  ani- 
mated by  the  presence  of  this  fearless  "  cock-of-the- 
Mediterranean,"  they  now  sailed  into  the  Frenchman 
as  if  the  zebeque  were  a  vessel  of  equal  strength  and 
armament.  Cheer  after  cheer  welled  into  the  air  as 
the  two  antagonists  drew  near  each  other,  while  the 
puff  of  white  smoke  from  the  sides  of  the  French 
vessel  was  followed  by  the  chug!  chug!  of  solid  shot, 


192      FAMOUS   PRIVATEERSMEN 

as  it  cut  up  the  waves  near  the  body  of  the  staunch, 
little  Saint  George. 

"  It's  three  to  one  against  us,  Boys !  "  shouted  the 
battle-scarred  Captain  Wright.  "  Fire  for  the  enemy's 
rigging  and  bring  down  one  of  her  masts,  if  you  can. 
If  you  fight  hard  we  can  lick  her !  " 

The  screech  of  a  shell  cut  his  words  short,  for  a 
piece  of  iron  passed  dangerously  near  his  lips,  striking 
a  stout  Italian  in  the  neck,  and  rendering  him  useless 
for  further  conflict. 

Around  and  around  in  a  wide  circle  flgated  the  two 
sea-warriors,  for  the  wind  was  light  and  just  drove 
them  along  at  the  rate  of  a  snail's  pace.  The  rag-tag- 
and-bob-tail  crew  on  the  Saint  George  stood  to  their 
guns  like  veterans  and  poured  in  such  a  hot  fire  that 
the  French  captain  speedily  realized  that  his  only 
chance  for  victory  was  to  board  and  overwhelm  the 
English  by  superior  numbers. 

"  Bring  the  vessel  up  on  her  starboard  side !  "  he 
commanded.  "And  get  out  the  boarding-pikes! 
Now  we'll  finish  Captain  Wright !  " 

The  zebeque  soon  ranged  alongside  the  battered 
Saint  George,  threw  her  grappling  hooks  into  the  rig- 
ging, and  her  men  were  in  a  hand-to-hand  struggle 
with  the  motley  crew  who  battled  for  the  veteran 
Fortunatus.  Slash!  Slash!  Crack!  The  cutlasses 
cut  and  parried,  the  pistols  spat,  and  the  boarding- 
pikes  thrust  and  struck.  Cheering  wildly  the  French- 
men attempted  to  climb  upon  the  deck  of  the  privateer, 
but  the  followers  of  old  Wright  fought  like  demons. 
Jhey  parried  and  thrust  like  fiends;  and  such  was  the 


THE    BOARDERS    WERE    REPULSED    WITH    GREAT    SLAUGHTER. 


FORTUNATUS   WRIGHT  193 

ferocity  of  their  struggle  that  the  boarders  were  re- 
pulsed with  great  slaughter. 

"  Thees  Wright  ees  a  very  hornet  for  a  fight !  '* 
sighed  the  French  captain,  as  he  ordered  the  grappling 
hooks  cast  off,  and  floated  his  vessel  away. 

Poom!   Poom! 

There  was  still  some  fight  left  in  the  little  Saint 
George  and  her  dauntless  crew  kept  pounding  iron  at 
the  sullen  zebeque,  which,  shattered  and  torn,  filled 
away  and  made  for  the  open  sea.  Her  captain  had 
been  struck  by  a  piece  of  shell  just  as  the  battle  closed; 
two  lieutenants  were  killed,  seventy  men  were 
wounded,  and  eighty-eight  had  been  killed  by  the  ac- 
curate shooting  of  the  "  Never-Say-Dies  "  under  Cap- 
tain Fortunatus  Wright :  the  invincible.  It  had  been 
a  gallant  battle,  gallantly  fought  by  both  sides,  and 
gallantly  won. 

Bold  navigator  Wright  followed  his  crippled  ad- 
versary for  several  miles,  then  —  seeing  another 
French  gun-boat  threatening  his  convoy  —  he  re- 
turned to  the  merchant-ships  which  had  accompanied 
him;  sent  them  back  into  Leghorn  harbor;  and  fol- 
lowed, next  day,  with  the  proud,  but  battered  Saint 
George.     It  had  been  a  glorious  victory. 

No  sooner  had  the  war-scarred  Captain  Wright 
let  go  his  anchor  chains  in  the  harbor  of  Leghorn 
than  he  realized  that  he  had  only  just  begun  to 
fight. 

"  Sapristi !  "  said  an  Italian  official.  "  This  pirate 
has  deceived  us!  This  fellow  was  allowed  but  four 
guns  upon  his  ship  and  he  had  twelve.     To  the  jail 


194      FAMOUS    PRIVATEERSMEN 

with  this  dog!  To  the  prison  with  this  cut-throat! 
Sapristi !  " 

A  boat  soon  rowed  to  the  Saint  George  and  an  order 
was  deUvered  to  Captain  Wright  to  the  effect  that  he 
must  bring  his  vessel  into  the  inner  harbor,  and,  if 
he  did  not  obey,  she  would  be  brought  in  by  Italian 
gun-boats.  Wright  —  of  course  —  refused.  So  two 
big  Italian  warships  sailed  up  upon  either  side  of 
the  Saint  George,  ran  out  their  guns,  and  cast  an- 
chor. 

''  I  will  not  move  for  the  entire  Italian  Govern- 
ment !  "  roared  Captain  Fortunatus.  "  I  will  appeal 
to  the  British  consul  for  protection,  as  England  is  at 
war  with  France,  not  with  Italy." 

Now  was  a  pretty  how-de-do.  The  Italians  were 
furious  with  the  stubborn  privateersman  for  refus- 
ing to  obey  their  orders,  but,  in  truth,  the  way  that 
he  had  deceived  them  in  smuggling  the  extra  cannon 
aboard  —  when  under  their  own  eyes  —  is  what  had 
roused  their  quick,  Tuscan  tempers.  They  thought 
that  they  had  been  sharp  —  well  —  here  was  a  man 
who  was  even  sharper  than  they,  themselves.  "  Sap- 
risti !  "  they  cried.     ''  To  the  jail  weeth  heem !  " 

There  was  a  terrific  war  of  words  between  the 
British  consul  and  the  officials  of  that  snug,  little 
town.  Then,  the  problem  was  suddenly  solved,  for, 
two  powerful,  English  men-of-war  dropped  into  the 
harbor :  the  Jersey  of  sixty  guns,  and  the  Isis  mount- 
ing fifty.  The  authorities  of  Leghorn  were  told  that 
they  had  orders  from  the  Admiral  of  the  British,  Med- 
iterranean fleet,  to  convoy  any  English  merchantmen 


FORTUNATUS   WRIGHT  195 

which  might  be  there,  and  to  release  the  Saint  George 
immediately.  Wright  threw  up  his  cap  and  cheered, 
but  the  officials  of  Leghorn  said  things  which  cannot 
be  printed.  Thus  the  Saint  George  sailed  upon  her 
way,  unmolested,  and  was  soon  taking  more  prizes 
upon  the  broad  waters  of  the  Mediterranean. 

The  path  of  the  privateer  is  not  strewn  with  roses. 
Captain  Fortunatus  found  that  his  reputation  had  gone 
abroad  and  it  had  not  been  to  his  credit,  for,  when  he 
put  in  at  Malta  he  was  not  allowed  to  buy  provisions 
for  his  ship. 

"  You  are  a  beastly  pirate !  "  said  an  official.  "  You 
cannot  purchase  anything  here  for  your  nefarious 
business." 

*'  I  am  a  privateer ! "  answered  Wright,  with  anger. 

"  A  privateer  looks  just  the  same  to  me  as  a  pirate," 
sarcastically  sneered  the  official.  And  Captain  For- 
tunatus had  to  look  elsewhere  for  provisions. 

As  he  cruised  along,  a  big,  French  cruiser  of 
thirty-eight  guns  chased  the  little  Saint  George  as  if 
to  gobble  her  up  alive. 

"  Boys !  We  shall  now  have  some  fun ! "  said  Cap- 
tain Wright.  "  I  can  sail  faster  than  this  Frenchy. 
Just  watch  me !  " 

So,  when  the  great  beast  of  a  French  vessel  came 
lumbering  by,  Wright  played  with  her  like  a  cat  with 
a  mouse ;  sailed  around  her  in  circles ;  shot  guns  at  her 
rigging  —  just  to  aggravate  the  men  from  the  sunny 
land  —  and  then  dipped  his  ensign  and  went  careening 
away  as  if  nothing  had  happened.  No  wonder  that 
the  French  hated  and  despised  this  valiant  mariner! 


196      FAMOUS  PRIVATEEKSMEN 

Wouldn't  you  have  done  so  if  you  had  been  a  French- 
man? 

Thus  Captain  Fortunatus  Wright  continued  upon 
his  privateering,  his  fighting,  and  his  cruising ;  bearing 
terror  to  his  enemies  but  satisfaction  to  his  friends. 
His  name  was  as  well  known  among  those  who  sailed 
the  Mediterranean  as  was  that  of  the  great  Napoleon 
in  later  years,  and  it  was  just  as  cordially  hated  by 
those  who  opposed  him.  "  The  Ogre  from  Leghorn  " 
was  one  of  his  titles,  while  some  applied  to  him  the 
choice  epithet  of  "  The  Red  Demon  from  Italy."  At 
any  rate  this  did  not  seem  to  worry  the  veteran  sea- 
dog,  who  continued  to  take  prizes  and  make  money 
until  the  year  1757.  Then  he  disappears  from  his- 
tory, for  the  body  of  brave,  resolute,  stubborn,  and 
valiant  Captain  Fortunatus  Wright  mysteriously  and 
suddenly  vanished  from  this  earth. 

What  was  his  end? 

Perhaps  he  perished  while  boarding  the  deck  of 
some  craft  which  was  manned  by  men  as  gallant  as 
his  own.  Perhaps  he  fell  while  stemming  the  advance 
of  a  crew  of  wild  Frenchmen,  eager  for  his  blood  and 
remembering  the  many  victories  which  he  had  won 
over  their  countrymen.  Perhaps,  in  the  wild,  wind- 
tossed  wastes  of  the  Mediterranean,  his  vessel  —  un- 
able to  cope  with  the  elements  —  was  hurled  upon 
some  jagged  rock  and  sunk  in  the  sobbing  waters  of 
the  frothing  sea.  Perhaps  he  was  captured,  hurried 
to  some  dark  prison,  and  died  in  one  of  those  many 
dungeons  which  disgrace  the  cities  of  the  Italian  coast. 
Perhaps  he  was  hanged  for  privateering. 


FORTUNATUS   WRIGHT  197 

At  any  rate,  nothing  is  known  of  the  last  days  of 
this  dauntless  navigator  save  what  can  be  gathered 
from  an  old  grave  in  St.  Peter's  churchyard,  in 
Liverpool. 

Here  is  the  tombstone  of  the  father  of  Fortunatus 
Wright,  an  inscription  upon  which,  tells  us  that  he 
was  a  master-mariner  of  Liverpool ;  that  he  defended 
his  ship  —  on  one  occasion  —  most  gallantly  against 
two  vessels  of  superior  force;  and  that  he  died,  not 
by  the  stroke  of  a  boarding-pike,  but  safely  in  his  own 
home.     To  this  is  added  the  information  that: 

"  Fortunatus  Wright,  his  son,  was  always  victori- 
ous, and  humane  to  the  vanquished.  He  was  a  con- 
stant terror  to  the  enemies  of  his  king  and  his  coun- 
try."     That  is  all. 


THE   DEEP 

There's  beauty  in  the  deep: 
The  wave  is  bluer  than  the  sky; 
And  though  the  lights  shine  bright  on  high, 
More  softly  do  the  sea-gems  glow 
That  sparkle  in  the  depths  below; 
The  rainbow  tints  are  only  made 
When  on  the  waters  they  are  laid. 
And  sea  and  moon  most  sweetly  shine 
Upon  the  ocean's  level  brine. 
There's  beauty  in  the  deep. 

There's  quiet  in  the  deep. 
Above,  let  tide  and  tempest  rave, 
And  earth-born  whirlwinds  wake  the  wave; 
Above,  let  care  and  fear  contend 
With  sin  and  sorrow  to  the  end : 
Here,  far  beneath  the  tainted  foam 
That  frets  above  our  peaceful  home, 
We  dream  in  joy,  and  walk  in  love. 
Nor  know  the  rage  that  yells  above. 
There's  quiet  in  the  deep. 


GEORGE   WALKER 

WINNER   OF   THE   GAMEST   SEA   FIGHT 

OF   THE   ENGLISH   CHANNEL 

(1727 -1777) 


War  is  Hell/  said  General  William  T.  Sherman.  But,  — 
better  have  war  than  bow  to  an  inferior  nation."  —  Doctrines  of 
the  Strenuous  Life. 


GEORGE  WALKER 

WINNER  OF  THE  GAMEST  SEA  FIGHT  OF 

THE  ENGLISH  CHANNEL 

(1727 -1777) 

"If  Britain  can  but  breed  th*  men, 
Who  are  like  Walker  made, 
She'll  have  no  fear  of  danger, 
When  th'  foe  starts  to  invade. 
When  th'  foe  starts  to  invade,  my  boys, 
An'  creep  along  th'  shore, 
Where  th'  curling  breakers  wash  th'  cliffs. 
Where  th'  breeching  combers  roar. 
Then,  lift  a  glass  to  Walker, 
Of  Gloria  so  fame, 
May  we  ne'er  forget  his  deed  lads. 
May  we  ne'er  forget  his  name." 

—  Chants  from  The  Channel.  — 1769. 

IT  was  the  year  1739,  and  the  good  people  of 
Charleston,  South  Carolina,  were  in  a  great  state 
of  agitation.  Little  knots  of  merchants,  sailors, 
clerks,  and  dock-hands  clustered  about  each  other  in 
the  narrow  streets.  And,  above  the  hub-bub  of  many 
voices,  could  be  heard  the  solemn  sentence,  oft  re- 
peated : 

"  The  pirate  is  off  the  narrows !     The  pirate  will 
soon  be  here !  " 

Then  all  would  gaze  seaward  with  startled  faces, 
and  would  murmur: 

201 


202      FAMOUS   PEIVATEERSMEN 

"  The  pirate  —  the  Spanish  pirate  will  be  here." 

As  they  thus  stood  irresolutely,  a  strongly-knit 
fellow  came  walking  towards  the  dock-end.  He  was 
clad  in  gray ;  his  face  was  deeply  seamed  by  long  ex- 
posure to  the  elements ;  and  high  top-boots  of  leather 
encased  his  lower  limbs. 

"What  ho!  Good  citizens,"  said  he.  "Do  I  un- 
derstand that  a  Spaniard  has  frightened  you  all? 
Why,  where's  your  courage?  " 

"Courage?"  answered  a  rotund-bodied  merchant. 
"  Of  that  we  have  a  plenty.  But  we  have  no  ship  with 
which  to  combat  this  fellow  —  or  fellows  —  for  some 
of  my  skippers  tell  me  that  there  are  two  of  them  off 
the  coast,  and  that  they've  captured  twenty  trading 
vessels." 

The  newcomer  smiled. 

"  I've  got  a  staunch  craft  here,"  said  he.  "  My 
name  is  Walker,  and  I  hail  from  Bristol,  England. 
My  ship  —  the  Duke  William  —  mounts  but  twenty 
guns,  and  my  crew  is  but  of  thirty-two,  yet,  I  know 
that  many  of  you  gentlemen  will  volunteer  your  serv- 
ices, particularly  if  there  is  to  be  a  nice  little  battle." 

"  Hear !  Hear !  "  came  from  all  sides.  "  You're  the 
boy  for  us !  You're  the  chap  we've  been  looking  for ! 
Hear!    Hear!" 

It  did  not  take  long  to  increase  the  crew  of  the 
Duke  William.  Several  of  the  wealthy  colonists  vol- 
unteered their  services;  many  sailors  were  there  who 
had  been  fighting  on  the  Spanish  Main.  They  were 
eager  and  anxious  to  join.  So,  before  three  days  were 
out,  the  Duke  William  spread  her  canvas  for  the  open 


GEORGE   WALKER  203 

sea,  carrying  one  hundred  men  and  an  additional 
twenty  guns.  Now  —  you  see  —  she  could  put  up  an 
excellent  fight  with  the  average  pirate-ship  which 
cruised  about  the  low-lying  and  sandy  coast. 

Out  into  the  broad  expanse  of  the  Atlantic  glided 
the  little  barque  and  eagerly  the  mariners  scanned  the 
horizon  for  some  signs  of  the  pirate. 

"  She's  been  hereabouts ! "  cried  one  stout  seaman, 
*'  For  several  of  my  mess-mates  saw  her  sails  down 
near  the  channel  islands.  And  her  flag  was  surely 
black  with  th'  skull  an'  cross-bones." 

"  Must  have  heard  that  we  were  coming,  then," 
growled  Captain  Walker,  "  for  there's  nothing  in 
view." 

In  an  hour's  time  he  thought  differently,  for, 
"  Sail  ho ! "  sounded  from  the  forward  deck,  and 
there,  far  off  to  leeward,  was  the  outline  of  a  long, 
blackish  vessel,  bearing  no  flag  at  her  mizzen  or  stern. 

Crowding  on  all  canvas  —  for  the  breeze  was  light 
—  the  Duke  William  bore  away  towards  her.  "  It 
must  be  the  pirate !  "  said  all,  for,  also  crowding  on 
all  sail,  the  vessel  headed  up  the  coast,  and  did  her 
utmost  to  get  away. 

On,  on,  went  pursuer  and  pursued ;  on,  on,  and  the 
Duke  William  began  to  draw  dangerously  close  to 
the  fleeing  vessel,  which  now  could  be  easily  seen. 
She  was  a  brigantine,  carrying  about  eighteen  guns, 
with  a  high  stern  and  graceful  lines.  No  flags  waved 
from  her  mast-heads. 

Suddenly  the  scudding  sea-warrior  pointed  her  nose 
in-shore,  ran  around  the  corner  of  a  sandy  island,  and 


204      FAMOUS   PEIVATEERSMEN 

bore  away  into  a  seemingly  large  lagoon  upon  the 
other  side.  The  Duke  William  followed,  and,  as  she 
rounded  a  jutting  sand-spit,  there  before  her  lay  a 
little  schooner,  on  the  deck  of  which  were  seen  several 
sailors,  waving  and  gesticulating  frantically.  Behind, 
and  on  the  shore,  was  an  earth-work,  from  which 
several  cannon  pointed  their  black  muzzles.  On  a 
jflag-pole  in  the  centre,  waved  a  Spanish  flag,  and, 
beneath  it,  a  black  ensign  upon  which  was  the  skull- 
and-cross-bones. 

"  It's  the  pirate  stronghold!  "  cried  several,  at  once. 
"  We're  in  for  a  tight  skirmish !  " 

But  Captain  Walker  only  smiled. 

The  brigantine,  which  he  had  been  following,  now 
rounded-to,  opened  her  port-holes,  and  fired  a  couple 
of  shots  toward  the  pursuing  craft.  At  the  same 
time  an  English  flag  was  hoisted  on  the  schooner,  and 
a  fellow  on  her  deck  sang  out  through  a  speaking 
trumpet. 

"  Thank  Heaven  you  have  come !  We  were  only 
captured  two  days  ago!  Hurrah  for  the  English 
flag!'^ 

The  Duke  William  kept  on  after  the  brigantine,  her 
mixed  crew  yelling  with  joy,  now  that  they  were  to 
have  an  action. 

Bang!  Bang! 

Her  two  forward  guns  spoke,  and  a  shot  went  rip- 
ping through  one  of  the  fore-sails  of  the  pirate. 

This  was  enough  for  the  fighting  spirit  of  those  who 
sailed  the  Spanish  Main.  For,  putting  about,  the 
brigantine  scudded  through  a  narrow  channel,  known 


GEOEGE   WALKER  206 

only  to  her  skipper  (for  no  one  else  could  have  fol- 
lowed without  grounding  upon  a  sand-spit),  and  was 
soon  running  away  upon  the  opposite  side  of  a  low- 
lying  island,  now  flaunting  the  pirate-flag  from  her 
halyards. 

"  She's  gone !  "  sadly  remarked  the  gallant  Captain 
Walker,  "  but  we  can  capture  the  gun-battery.  Make 
ready  to  go  ashore,  if  needed !  " 

Steering  for  the  coast,  the  guns  of  the  Duke  William 
opened  upon  the  sandy  barricade,  and  shot  after  shot 
was  soon  making  the  dirt  and  gravel  fly  in  every  direc- 
tion : 

Poom!   Poom!    Cu-poom! 

The  cannon  in  the  earth-work  next  began  to  speak, 
and,  it  was  apparent,  from  the  strange  noises  which 
some  of  them  made,  that  they  were  full  of  rust. 

Cu-Poom!  Cu-Pow!  Chuck-chuck-cu-swash!  they 
roared,  and  a  few  balls  began  to  whistle  about  the 
spars  of  the  Duke  William. 

There  were  some  accurate  marksmen  upon  the 
deck  of  the  British  vessel,  and,  as  she  lay  broadside 
to  the  fortification,  one  well-aimed  shot  struck  a  can- 
non and  dismounted  it;  while  another  shattered  the 
flag-pole  and  brought  down  the  flag  with  a  crash. 

"  Hurrah ! "  shouted  the  men  from  Charleston. 
"  Now  we'll  even  up  with  these  cursed  pirates  for  all 
the  damage  that  they've  done  us.  Now,  we'll  teach 
them  not  to  ravage  our  coasts  and  catch  our  merchant 
ships!" 

Cii-whow!  barked  the  rust-caked  guns  of  the  bar- 
ricade.    "  Go-slozv!  Go-hack!  Go-home!'' 


206      JH^AMOUS   PRIVATEERSMEN 

To  this  a  full  broadside  roared,  and  the  balls  tore 
the  top  of  the  earth-work  to  shreds. 

"  Now  let  thirty  men  take  to  the  boats ! "  com- 
manded Captain  Walker.  *'  Steer  for  the  beach  and 
rush  the  barricade  with  pistols  and  cutlasses.  I  don't 
believe  that  there  are  more  than  a  dozen  men  inside 
the  earth- work." 

"  Huzzah !  "  was  the  cheerful  answer  to  this  order, 
and,  in  a  few  moments,  several  boats  were  racing  for 
the  beach,  each  eager  to  be  the  first  ashore. 

As  they  approached,  the  antiquated  guns  on  the 
sand-spit  became  strangely  silent,  and,  as  the  eager 
raiders  rushed  valiantly  upon  the  pirate  fortress,  no 
shots  were  fired  at  them  to  impede  their  progress. 
With  a  wild  yell  they  leaped  over  the  side  of  the  bar- 
ricade, only  to  find  it  deserted ;  for  whatever  had  been 
the  force  that  had  fired  these  cannon,  it  had  taken  to 
the  brush  as  the  English  seamen  drew  near.  Only  a 
few  charges  of  ammunition  w^ere  there,  so  it  was 
plainly  evident  that  the  pirates  (whatever  their 
strength  might  have  been)  could  only  have  held  out 
for  a  few  more  rounds. 

"Hurrah!  Hurrah!"  shouted  the  raiders.  "The 
fort  is  ours !  " 

"  And  it's  a  sorry  victory,"  said  one  of  the  crew, 
"  for  there's  nothing  here  worth  the  having,  except 
the  cannon,  and  they  couldn't  stand  more  than  two 
more  shots  without  blowing  up.  I  call  it  a  pretty 
hollow  success." 

In  spite  of  this  the  men  of  Charleston  were  well 
pleased.    They  had  dispersed  the  pirates;  taken  their 


GEORGE   WALKER  207 

fort;  and  had  re-captured  a  schooner  which  had  re- 
cently been  taken  only  a  few  miles  from  the  harbor- 
mouth  of  that  fair,  southern  city. 

When  they  sailed  into  their  home  port  they  received 
a  tremendous  ovation.  The  bells  were  rung  in  all  the 
churches ;  shots  were  fired ;  trumpets  were  blown. 

"  We  could  fall  in  with  nothing  that  would  stay  for 
us  upon  the  seas,"  said  Captain  Walker,  modestly ;  but, 
in  spite  of  this,  he  was  treated  like  a  great  hero.  All 
the  influential  persons  in  the  Colony  offered  to  sign 
a  request  that  he  might  be  given  the  command  of  a 
king's  ship;  but  this  he  declined.  So  they  tendered 
him  an  immense  tract  of  land  if  he  would  remain  in 
that  country  and  drive  off  the  pirates  when  next  they 
became  too  bold  and  daring;  but  this  he  also  declined, 
and  stuck  to  his  ship.  In  a  few  weeks  he  sailed  for 
the  Barbadoes,  and  then  to  England,  in  company  with 
three  unarmed  trading-vessels  which  placed  themselves 
under  his  convoy.  The  good  people  of  Charleston 
bade  him  a  sad  and  affectionate  farewell. 

George  Walker  sailed  forth  smiling,  but  he  was  now 
to  have  far  more  trouble  than  his  little  affair  with  the 
pirates. 

When  half  way  to  England,  a  terrific  gale  struck 
the  Duke  William  and  her  convoys,  which  separated 
them  by  many  miles,  and  made  this  good  vessel 
(which  had  dispersed  the  pirates)  leak  like  a  sieve. 
The  gale  continued  in  its  violence,  while  Captain 
Walker  was  so  ill  that  the  ship's  surgeon  despaired  of 
his  life.  But  note  how  grit  and  nerve  pulled  him 
through ! 


208      FAMOUS   PRIVATBEESMEN 

On  the  second  day  of  the  tempest,  a  sailor  rushed 
into  his  cabin,  crying: 

"  Captain !  Captain !  We'll  founder,  for  the  water 
is  pouring  into  our  bottom  by  the  hogshead.  We're 
gone  for  unless  we  take  to  the  boats !  " 

Captain  Walker  was  not  the  man  to  leave  his  ship 
in  such  a  crisis. 

*'  Throw  all  of  the  guns  overboard,  but  two !  "  he 
ordered.  '*  We  need  those  in  order  to  signal  for  help 
if  a  vessel  comes  near  us.  That  will  lighten  us  so  that 
we  can  still  float  awhile." 

This  was  done,  but,  as  the  last  cannon  shot  into  the 
waves,  a  sailor  burst  into  his  cabin  with  the  intelligence 
that  the  men  had  prepared  to  desert  in  the  tenders. 

"  Carry  me  on  deck !  "  roared  the  resolute  captain. 
"  I'll  give  these  cowards  a  piece  of  my  mind." 

Three  sailors  seized  him  and  bore  him  aloft,  where 
he  remonstrated  with  his  men  in  the  strongest  lan- 
guage possible.  In  spite  of  this,  many  clustered  about 
one  of  the  boats. 

"  The  ship's  a-sinking,"  cried  one.  "  She  won't 
stand  up  for  an  hour." 

As  he  spoke,  the  welcome  sound  of,  "Sail  ho!" 
arose,  above  the  wash  and  roar  of  the  angry  water. 

Sure  enough,  a  ship  was  bearing  down  upon  them, 
but,  to  the  dismay  of  all,  she  hastily  hauled  off  again. 

Captain  Walker  was  astonished.  "  She  thinks  us  an 
armed  enemy,"  said  he.  "  Fire  a  gun,  men,  and  cut 
the  mizzen-mast  in  two,  so  that  it  falls  overboard. 
That  will  show  the  stranger  that  we're  a  friend  in  dis- 
tress." 


GEORGE   WALKER  209 

His  orders  were  immediately  obeyed  and  the  mast 
came  ripping  and  tearing  over  the  side.  A  gun  also 
roared,  and  the  stranger,  now  convinced  that  the  ship 
was  a  friend,  and  not  a  foe,  came  bearing  down  upon 
the  crippled  Duke  William,  to  the  rescue. 

"She's  one  of  our  own  convoy!"  shouted  a  sea- 
man, waving  his  hand  joyfully.  And  such  she  proved 
to  be.  Captain  Walker  had  saved  his  crew  by  his 
foresight  and  quickness  of  decision.  Had  he  thrown 
all  of  his  cannon  overboard  he  would  have  had  no 
gun  with  which  to  hail  the  stranger,  and,  had  he  not 
cut  away  his  own  mast,  she  would  have  gone  away, 
fearful  that  he  was  an  enemy.  Three  cheers  for  the 
brave  and  thoughtful  Captain  Walker!  He  reached 
England,  at  last,  but  he  and  his  men  were  in  a  sorry 
plight,  for  the  vessel  which  had  rescued  them  was 
almost  as  unseaworthy  as  their  own,  which  sank  in 
a  great  whirl  of  eddying  foam,  not  half  an  hour  after 
they  had  left  her.  Thus  ended  the  career  of  the  good 
ship  which  had  chased  all  of  the  pirates  away  from  the 
harbor  of  Charleston.  A  sad  fate,  indeed,  for  such  a 
gallant  craft. 

Captain  Walker  was  not  long  idle,  for  he  soon  took 
charge  of  a  brigantine  trading  to  the  Baltic  Sea,  in 
spite  of  the  fact  that  war  had  been  declared  with 
France,  and  the  privateers  and  gun-boats  of  that  na- 
tion hovered  in  his  path,  eager  and  anxious  to  secure 
some  English  merchant  vessel,  as  a  prize. 

"  I  see  that  these  fellows  mean  to  catch  me,  if  they 
can,"  said  the  keen-witted  mariner.  "  So  I  intend  to 
be  ready  for  them  if  I  do  not  happen  to  be  near  an 


210      FAMOUS   PRIVATEEESMEN 

English  man-of-warsman  when  they  come  sailing 
by." 

He  therefore  shipped  a  number  of  wooden  guns, 
which  were  painted  black,  so  that,  at  a  distance,  they 
looked  exactly  like  the  real  thing.  Upon  his  vessel 
were  only  six  cannon,  so  when  —  a  short  time  after- 
wards —  he  was  chased  by  a  French  privateer  off  the 
coast  of  Scotland  —  he  had  an  excellent  opportunity 
to  ''  bluff  "  the  bold  marauder. 

As  the  Frenchman  drew  near,  the  vessel  which  Cap- 
tain Walker  was  on  kept  steadily  upon  her  way,  and, 
through  his  glass,  the  cautious  mariner  saw  that  his 
pursuer  carried  fully  twenty  guns. 

"  Run  out  our  dummy  cannon !  "  he  ordered. 

Out  were  thrust  the  black,  wooden  muzzles,  twenty- 
five  in  number,  and  —  as  the  Frenchman  was  now 
within  shooting  distance  —  the  English  boat  was 
luffed  into  the  wind.  In  a  second  the  British  jack, 
ensign,  and  man-of-war's  pendant  were  hoisted,  and  a 
gun  was  fired  across  the  bow  of  the  arrogant  priva- 
teer. 

"  Come  on !  "  shouted  bold  Walker.  "  I  am  waiting 
for  you !  " 

But  the  enemy  did  not  come  on.  Instead  of  this, 
she  turned  tail  in  a  hurry,  filled  away,  and  made  off 
as  fast  as  a  freshening  breeze  would  drive  her. 

"Ha!  Ha!  Ha!"  laughed  the  genial,  English 
skipper.  "  Bluffed  by  a  lot  of  wooden  guns.  Ha ! 
Ha!  Ha!" 

And  all  of  his  sailors  gave  a  rousing  cheer. 

This  was  indeed  good  fortune,  but  Captain  Walker 


GEORGE   WALKER  211 

was  soon  to  meet  with  some  fortune  which  was  quite 
the  reverse. 

It  was  the  year  1744  and  the  doughty  sailor  had 
accepted  the  command  of  the  privateer  Mars,  of 
twenty-six  guns  and  one  hundred  and  thirty  men, 
which  sailed  from  London  for  a  cruise  in  the  English 
channel.  With  her  was  the  Boscawen,  another  priva- 
teer with  about  the  same  number  of  guns,  but  with  a 
crew  of  fully  one  hundred  and  eighty.  They  soon 
had  an  adventure  which  was  not  all  to  the  liking  of 
bold  George  Walker. 

At  midnight,  late  in  December,  the  two  priva- 
teers were  running  near  the  coast  of  France.  There 
was  a  heavy  mist  and  rain,  also  a  fresh  breeze, 
so  the  steersmen  could  not  well  see  what  way  they 
were  going.  Suddenly  the  hulls  of  two  large  vessels 
loomed  up  in  the  blackness,  and  the  twinkling  lights 
from  their  port-holes  shone  upon  the  dripping  sides  of 
the  British  privateers.  Voices  came  through  the  mist 
—  French  voices  —  so  it  was  apparent  that  the  ships 
were  not  friends. 

"  Those  fellows  are  showing  much  alarm,"  said 
Captain  Walker,  a  few  moments  later.  "  I  therefore 
believe  that  the  vessels  are  full  of  treasure.  We'll 
hang  on  until  daylight,  at  any  rate,  and  see  whether 
or  no  we  cannot  capture  a  rich  cargo." 

Next  morning,  at  eight  o'clock,  the  fog  suddenly 
lifted,  disclosing  —  not  two  treasure  ships  —  but  two 
French  men-of-war;  one  bearing  seventy-fo.ur  guns, 
the  other  sixty-four. 

"  Egad !  "  ejaculated  the  startled  Walker.     "  We're 


212      FAMOUS   PRIVATEERSMEN 

in  a  hornet's  nest!  I  guess  we'd  better  run  for 
it!" 

The  Frenchmen,  however,  were  both  treasure-ships, 
as  well  as  men-of-war;  both  bound  from  the  West 
Indies,  with  cargoes  worth  about  four  millions  ster- 
ling ($20,000,000),  which  they  were  carrying  into  the 
harbor  of  Brest.  They  were  not  in  good  fighting 
trim,  as  their  heavy  cargoes  made  them  low  in  the 
water,  arid  very  unwieldy.  It  is  probable  that  they 
would  not  have  attacked  the  two  Englishmen,  had  not 
the  captain  of  the  Boscawen  turned  tail  and  fled,  leav- 
ing the  Mars  all  alone. 

"  Did  you  ever  see  such  a  coward  ?  "  cried  Captain 
Walker,  with  heat.     "  Boys !   We're  in  for  it  now !  " 

Sure  enough,  they  were:  for  the  Frenchmen  saw 
that  only  one  enemy  was  left,  and  immediately  sent 
the  sixty-four  gun  ship  —  the  Fleuron  —  in  pursuit. 

Walker  turned  his  vessel  about  and  clapped  on 
all  sail,  but  the  large  gun-boat  quickly  overhauled 
him. 

"  Gentlemen !  "  said  Captain  Walker,  as  she  rapidly 
approached.  "  I  do  not  mean  to  be  so  rash  as  to  at- 
tempt a  regular  engagement  with  so  superior  a  force ; 
all  I  ask  of  you  is  to  confide  in  me  and  my  orders,  to 
get  away  —  if  possible  —  without  striking  our  flag; 
and,  be  assured,  I  shall  not  call  upon  you  to  fight  un- 
less there  is  excellent  opportunity  for  success.  The 
ship  which  pursues  us  is  certainly  the  better  sailer  of 
the  two  French  men-of-war;  yet,  if  we  have  good 
fortune  with  our  shots,  we  may  bring  down  a  topmast 
or  yard ;   or  hurt  her  rigging  so  as  to  retard  her  pur- 


GEORGE   WALKER  213 

suit.  We  may  yet  get  entirely  clear.  So,  my  hearties, 
do  not  lose  your  nerve!  " 

These  wise  remarks  were  greeted  with  a  "  Hip ! 
Hip!   Hooray!" 

Now  was  a  lively  chase.  The  Mars  hoisted  the 
English  flag,  opened  with  her  stern  guns,  and  put  on 
all  available  canvas.  But  she  was  not  a  fast  sailer, 
and  gradually  but  surely,  the  Fleuron  crept  up  on  one 
side,  and  the  other  French  man-of-war  upon  the  other. 
She,  too,  had  entered  the  chase. 

Finally  the  French  vessels  had  the  British  privateer 
directly  between  them. 

**  The  jig  is  tip!"  cried  Captain  Walker,  sadly. 
"  Gentlemen,  we  do  not  strike  to  one  ship  only.  Haul 
down  the  colors!  " 

Down  came  the  proud  ensign,  the  sails  were  low- 
ered, and  the  gallant  Walker  entered  a  boat,  in  order 
that  he  might  be  put  aboard  the  Fleuron  and  give  up 
his  sword.  When  he  arrived  on  the  deck  he  found  the 
French  captain  by  no  means  in  the  politest  of  humors. 

After  receiving  the  weapon  of  the  vanquished  pri- 
vateersman,  the  Frenchman  thundered  in  very  good 
English : 

"  How  dare  you  fire  against  a  force  like  mine  in  so 
small  a  ship?  Sirrah,  you  must  be  stark  mad.  I 
compliment  you  upon  your  lack  of  judgment." 

Captain  Walker  was  nettled. 

"  Sir,"  he  replied,  with  warmth,  "  if  you  will  look 
at  my  commission  you  will  find  that  I  had  as  good  a 
right  to  fight  as  you,  yourself,  had.  Furthermore,  if 
my  force  had  not  been  so  inferior  to  yours,  I  would 


214      FAMOUS    PRIVATEERSMEN 

have  shown  you  more  civil  treatment  on  board  my 
own  ship,  after  I  had  captured  you." 

The  Frenchman  winced. 

"  How  many  of  your  bushwhackers  have  I  killed  ?  " 
said  he. 

"  None  at  all,  sir !  "  replied  the  Englishman. 

"  Then,  sir,  you  should  be  well  ashamed  of  your 
scurvy  fighting.  For  you  have  killed  six  of  my  brave 
men  and  have  wounded  several  with  pieces  of  glass. 
Pray,  when,  sir,  did  the  rules  of  war  allow  glass  to 
be  used  as  ammunition?  " 

"  You  lie,"  cried  Captain  Walker.  '*  No  glass  was 
used  by  my  men." 

The  Frenchman  curbed  his  anger. 

"  Then  what  was  it?  "  said  he. 

Here  a  British  seaman  interrupted. 

"  If  it  would  please  your  French  Majesty,"  he  said, 
with  a  bow,  "  I  reckon  I  know  what  it  was  that  you 
took  for  glass.  The  captain  of  one  of  our  stern  guns, 
when  he  found  out  that  we  must  surrender,  sir,  took 
about  sixteen  shillings  from  his  pocket,  saying: 
'  Sooner  than  let  these  French  rascals  plunder  me  of 
all  Tve  got  in  the  world,  I'll  see  what  a  bribe  can  do ! ' 
So  he  wrapped  the  money  up  in  a  bag,  sir,  crammed 
it  into  a  gun,  and  let  fly  at  your  deck.  Faith,  your 
men  were  lucky  to  be  struck  by  good,  British  coin!  " 

At  this  all  had  a  good  laugh,  and  the  unpleasantness 
between  the  French  captain  and  George  Walker  was 
at  an  end.  The  privateersman  was  treated  with  the 
greatest  courtesy  and  was  made  as  comfortable  as 
could  be, 


GEORGE   WALKER  216 

The  action  took  place  on  Friday  and  the  ships  were 
headed  for  Brest,  about  three  days'  sail  away.  At  day- 
break on  Sunday  morning,  four  large  boats  were 
sighted  astern,  and  it  did  not  take  long  to  realize  that 
they  were  coming  up  pretty  fast  and  were  ^flying  the 
English  colors. 

"  Hurray !  "  shouted  Captain  Walker.  "  No  French 
prison  for  me.     Hurray !  " 

The  English  squadron  gained  steadily.  The  boats 
grew  nearer  and  nearer,  while  Walker's  hopes  soared 
higher  and  higher.  Finally,  the  French  officer,  who 
was  in  charge  of  his  own  boat  —  the  Mars  —  put  his 
helm  up  and  ran  to  leeward,  hoping  to  draw  one  of 
the  British  vessels  after  him.  He  was  successful,  for 
a  seventy-gun  ship  made  after  him,  chased  him  for 
several  miles,  and  finally  re-captured  the  English 
privateer.  The  other  ships  kept  on  and  drew  closer 
and  closer. 

Seeing  that  an  action  would  soon  take  place,  the 
French  captain  politely  requested  Walker  and  his 
officers  to  go  below. 

"  Messieurs !  "  said  he.  "  There  will  soon  be  a  leetle 
affair  in  which  the  balls  will  fly.  You  will  be  better 
off  in  the  hold,  where  they  cannot  reach  you  so  easily 
as  up  here." 

"  Sir !  "  replied  the  English  privateer-captain.  "  I 
go  below  with  the  greatest  of  pleasure,  for  I  am  now 
certain  of  my  liberty.     Au  revoir!  " 

"  Do  not  count  your  chickens  before  they  hatch ! " 
cried  the  Frenchman,  after  his  retreating  form. 

The  British  vessels  were  the  Hampton  Court  of 


216      FAMOUS   PRIVATEERSMEN 

seventy  guns,  and  the  Sunderland  and  Dreadnought  of 
sixty  each;  so,  being  three  to  two,  they  should  have 
had  a  fairly  easy  victory  over  the  Frenchmen.  But 
the  Sunderland  lost  a  spar  overboard,  and  dropped 
astern ;   so  it  left  but  tv/o  to  two :   an  even  affair. 

Alas  for  gallant  Captain  Walker!  Although  the 
Englishmen  came  near  the  two  French  men-of-war, 
they  hung  about  without  firing  a  shot;  allowed  the 
Frenchmen  to  sail  on  uamolested,  and  thus  carry  their 
astonishingly  rich  treasure  into  Brest,  amid  wild  and 
enthusiastic  cheering  of  their  crews,  and  groans  of  dis- 
appointment from  the  English  prisoners. 

Yet  these  same  prisoners  had  little  cause  to  com- 
plain of  their  treatment  when  they  arrived  at  Brest; 
for  they  were  landed  at  once,  and  the  captain  and  of- 
ficers were  liberated  on  parole.  The  French  also 
treated  them  very  well  and  invited  the  valorous  George 
Walker  to  many  a  repast,  where  they  laughed  at  the 
narrow  shave  that  he  had  had  from  death,  —  for  they 
had  left  the  Fleuron  none  too  soon. 

On  the  day  following  the  landing,  Captain  Walker 
was  seated  in  the  office  of  a  counting-house,  near  the 
dock-end,  and  was  writing  a  letter  to  the  captain  of 
the  Fleuron,  requesting  him  to  send  him  his  letter-of- 
credit,  which  was  in  a  tin  box  in  a  cabin  of  the  French 
man-of-war,  when  a  terrible  Boom!  sounded  upon  his 
ears. 

A  sailor  came  runnmg  past  the  open  window. 

"  The  Fleuron  has  blown  up !  "  he  cried.  "  The 
Fleuron  is  a  total  loss ! " 

Captain  Walker  dashed  into  the  street;   to  the  end 


GEORGE   WALKER  217 

of  the  quay;  and  there  a  sad  spectacle  greeted  his 
eager  gaze.  Strewn  about  upon  the  surface  of  the 
water  were  broken  spars;  pieces  of  sail;  and  the  de- 
bris of  a  once  gallant  man-of-war.  The  remnants  of 
the  Fleuron  were  burning  brightly. 

The  captain  of  the  French  ship  came  running  by. 
**  Helas !  "  he  wailed.  *'  A  careless  gunner  has  des- 
troyed my  gallant  vessel.     Helas !    Helas !  " 

It  was  too  true.  Four  or  five  powder  barrels  had 
been  left  in  the  magazine  for  saluting  purposes,  and 
quite  a  little  loose  powder  had  been  allowed  to  lie  upon 
the  floor.  Some  careless  seamen  had  gone  down  into 
the  hold  with  a  decrepit,  old  lantern.  The  handle 
broke,  the  flame  set  fire  to  the  loose  powder,  —  and 
that  was  the  end  of  the  gallant  ship  Fleuron.  She 
burned  to  the  water's  edge  and  then  went  down  to  the 
bottom  with  a  dull,  sizzhng  hiss;  while  the  treasure 
also  disappeared.  Later  on,  divers  secured  a  part  of 
it,  but  much  that  was  of  value  was  never  recovered. 

Captain  Walker  did  not  long  grieve  over  the  loss  of 
his  letter-of-credit,  left  on  board  the  ill-starred  Fleu- 
ron, for  he  was  exchanged,  after  a  few  weeks,  and 
was  sent  back  to  England  with  his  crew.  This  was  in 
1745.  He  lost  no  time  in  reporting  to  the  owners  of 
the  Mars,  and  so  well  did  they  think  of  him,  that  in 
a  short  while  they  sent  him  upon  another  privateering 
venture  aboard  the  Boscawen,  which,  as  you  remember, 
had  run  away  from  the  Mars,  after  she  had  fallen  in 
with  the  two  French  men-of-war.  Now  occurred  his 
greatest  sea-fight. 

The  Boscawen  had  been  built  in  France  and  had 


218      FAMOUS   PRIVATEERSMEN 

been  a  prize,  taken  at  sea.  She  mounted  twenty-eight 
guns  (nine-pounders),  but  Walker  added  two  more, 
and  shipped  a  crew  of  three  hundred  and  fourteen  men. 
Without  waiting  for  the  Mars,  the  stout  sea-dog  put 
out  to  sea  on  April  19th,  1745,  steering  for  the  shores 
of  France  where  cruised  the  prize-laden  clipper  ships, 
and  the  unwelcome  men-of-warsmen.  The  British 
privateersman  cruised  about  for  a  whole  month  with- 
out any  luck,  and,  falling  in  with  the  privateer  Sheer- 
ness,  joined  with  her  in  a  little  run  in  search  of  in- 
offensive merchantmen.  At  daybreak  a  cry  came  from 
the  forward  watch,  — 

"  Sails  ho !  Sails  ho !  Off  the  starboard  quarter ! 
There' re  eight  o'  them  an'  heading  no'  east." 

Both  the  privateers  started  in  pursuit,  but  the  Sheer- 
ness  was  left  far  astern,  as  the  Boscawen  was  a  speedy 
sailer.  The  latter  drew  near  the  eight  scudding  sail, 
which  suddenly  veered  about  and  formed  a  line,  await- 
ing an  attack.  The  Sheerness  was  way  astern.  Would 
Captain  Walker  advance  ? 

It  was  eight  against  one,  and  there  was  no  certainty 
what  was  the  armament  of  the  vessels  now  standing 
in  a  row,  all  ready  for  action.  The  faces  of  the  officers 
on  the  Boscawen  showed  anxiety  and  suspense,  but 
there  was  no  shadow  of  fear  upMDn  the  countenance  of 
Captain  Walker,  who  now  addressed  them  in  the  fol- 
lowing words : 

"  Gentlemen,  I  hope  that  you  do  not  think  the  num- 
ber of  prizes  before  us  too  many.  Be  assured,  my 
good  friends,  that  by  their  being  armed,  they  have 
something  on  board  of  them  that  is  worth  defending. 


GEORGE   WALKER  219 

I  take  them  to  be  merchantmen  with  letters  of  marque 
(privateers),  and  homeward  bound.  Without  doubt 
we  shall  meet  with  some  opposition,  in  which  I  know 
that  you  will  exhibit  your  usual  courage.  We  must 
conquer  these  superior  numbers  by  superior  skill.  Be 
cool.  Be  careful  that  you  aim  correctly,  for,  as  we 
shall  be  pressed  on  all  sides,  let  every  man  do  his  best 
to  engage  the  enemy  that  he  sees  before  him. 

"  In  a  word.  Gentlemen,  if  you  will  put  full  confi- 
dence in  me  for  leading  you  on,  I  will  pawn  my  life 
upon  the  fact  that  I  will  bring  you  off  victorious." 

"  Hurray !  Hurray  for  Walker !  "  came  the  re- 
assuring response. 

"  Then  go  to  your  quarters,  my  hearties !  Fight  like 
Britishers  of  old,  and  all  will  be  well !  "  cried  the  brave 
mariner. 

Like  a  hornet  among  a  group  of  snap-dragons,  the 
Boscawen  now  sailed  into  the  centre  of  the  enemy's 
line. 

"  Do  not  fire  until  I  give  the  word !  "  cried  Captain 
Walker,  as  the  salt  spray  kicked  and  splashed  about 
the  bow  of  the  oncoming  Boscawen.  "  Then  hammer 
away  like  anvils  on  a  sledge!" 

Sixty  men  were  ill  on  board  the  stout  little  English 
privateer,  but  all  save  three  crawled  on  deck  in  order 
to  render  what  assistance  they  could  in  pointing  and 
handling  the  guns. 

Now  was  a  glorious  fight. 

Bang!   Crash!   Z-i-i-p! 

The  French  privateers  were  hammering  away  as  the 
Englishman  approached  and  their  balls  cut  and  tore 


220      FAMOUS   PRIVATEERSMEN 

through  the  rigging,  damaging  the  mizzen  top-sail, 
and  splitting  a  top-mast.  Steering  straight  for  the 
largest  vessel,  Walker  waited  until  he  was  within  close 
range  and  then  gave  the  order: 

"  Fire,  and  hull  her  if  you  can." 

Poof!   Cr-a^a-sh! 

A  blinding  broadside  rolled  from  the  port  of  the 
Boscawen,  and  the  solid  shot  bit  and  tore  the  stranger 
like  a  terrier  mouthing  a  rat. 

The  valiant  little  privateer  was  now  in  the  midst 
of  the  enemy.  Two  were  to  right  of  her;  two  to  the 
left  of  her;  one  across  her  bow;  and  one  across  her 
stern.  Two  of  the  eight  decamped,  at  this  juncture; 
making  the  odds  six,  instead  of  eight,  to  one. 

''  Pow!    Pow!    Cu-boom! " 

The  vessel  astern  was  banging  away  like  a  Banshee, 
but  a  sudden  crash  from  the  stern  guns  so  badly  dam- 
aged her  that  she  hauled  off.     It  was  now  five  to  one. 

"  Keep  it  up,  boys !  "  cried  Walker,  above  the  roar 
and  rattle  of  the  fray.  "  You're  doing  splendidly. 
You  all  deserve  statues  in  the  temple  of  fame." 

"  Huzzah !  "  shouted  his  men.  "  Hurray  for  the 
Boscawen.     Down  with  the  Frenchmen !  " 

*' Cu-pow!  Boom!  Boom!"  roared  the  cannon, 
while  the  broadsides  from  the  Boscawen  were  delivered 
without  either  confusion  or  disorder.  The  five  were 
sparring  gamely,  but  they  were  lightly  armed,  with 
only  a  few  guns  to  each,  so  the  thirty  nine-pounders 
on  board  the  English  privateer  were  about  an  equal 
match  for  the  greater  numbers  of  the  foe. 

Thus  the  fight  raged  for  an  hour,  when,  suddenly, 


GEOEGE  WALKER  221 

the  ensign  upon  the  mast  of  the  French  flagship  was 
seen  to  flutter  to  the  deck.  Ten  minutes  later  a  cry 
arose  from  a  sailor  aboard  the  Boscawen: 

''  Look,  Captain,  she's  sinking!  " 

Sure  enough,  the  accurate  fire  from  the  British 
privateer  had  so  riddled  the  hull  of  the  Frenchman, 
that  she  fast  filled  with  water,  and  sank,  stern  first, 
her  men  escaping  in  their  small  boats. 

"  That's  one  less,  anyway,"  mused  Captain  Walker. 

The  remaining  four  continued  the  fight,  but  the 
little  privateer  was  too  much  for  them.  Around  and 
around  she  veered,  broadsiding  with  astonishing  accu- 
racy, and  knocking  the  spars  about  like  a  foot-ball 
team  kicking  a  ball.  "Pow!  Pozv!  "  the  guns  roared, 
and  the  men  cried,  "  Remember  the  oath  of  our  cap- 
tain !     Let's  take  'em  all !  " 

It  began  to  look  as  if  they  would  do  it,  too;  for, 
now  upon  the  starboard  quarter  appeared  the  white 
sails  of  a  vessel,  and,  as  she  approached,  a  joyous  cheer 
arose  from  the  deck  of  the  Boscawen,  for  it  was  the 
Sheerness. 

"  Now  we'll  get  'em !  Now  we'll  get  'em !  "  yelled 
the  British  sailors,  and  they  plied  their  guns  with  re- 
newed activity  and  care. 

Down  came  the  flag  upon  one  of  the  Frenchmen, 
and  —  in  a  few  moments  —  down  came  another. 
Then,  as  the  Sheerness  rolled  closer,  two  more  ensigns 
fluttered  to  the  deck.  There  was  but  one  Frenchman 
left,  and  she  made  off,  with  the  newcomer  hot  in  pur- 
suit. 

"  Hurray !     Hurray !     Hurray !  "      The   sailors    on 


222      FAMOUS   PRIVATEERSMEN 

board  the  Boscawen  were  fairly  jumping  for  joy. 
"  Hurray !    Hurray !    Hurray !  "  they  yelled. 

And  well  might  they  cheer,  for  had  they  not  won 
one  of  the  pluckiest  sea-fights  of  all  history?  The 
enemy  is  said  to  have  had  one  hundred  and  thirteen 
killed  and  drowned,  while  the  casualties  of  the  Bos- 
cawen amounted  to  but  one  killed  and  seven  wounded. 
"  And  this,"  says  an  old  chronicler  of  the  spirited  af- 
fair, "  was  due  to  the  fact  that  the  British  privateer 
had  a  bulwark  of  elm-planking,  man-high,  around  her 
decl^  It  was  so  fashioned  that  there  was  a  step  on 
which  the  marines  could  mount  and  fire,  and  then 
come  down  in  order  to  load.  Furthermore,  this  elm- 
wood  did  not  splinter;  but  kept  out  the  bullets,  and 
closed  up  around  the  holes  made  by  shot.'* 

At  any  rate,  it  was  a  glorious  victory,  and  when  — 
a  few  hours  later  —  the  Sheerness  came  back  with  the 
other  French  vessel  a  prize,  the  total  capture  amounted 
to  six  vessels :  homeward  bound  traders  from  Mar- 
tinique, provided  with  letters  of  marque,  and  with 
about  six  guns  each.  Their  crews  were  undoubtedly 
undisciplined  and  ill-used  to  shooting,  else  bow  could 
they  have  done  so  badly  with  the  Boscazven? 

The  prizes  were  headed  for  the  English  coast  and 
arrived  at  King's  Road,  Bristol,  in  a  few  days,  where 
a  swarm  of  eager  sight-seers  crowded  about  the  shat- 
tered craft. 

"My!  My!"  said  many.  "This  Walker  is  an- 
other Drake.    He  is  a  valiant  soul !  " 

And  so  thought  the  British  Admiralty,  for  they  sent 
him  a  letter  (upon  his  reporting  to  them)  which  read : 


GEORGE    WALKER  223 

"  We  cannot  too  highly  congratulate  and  commend 
you  upon  the  seamanship  and  courage  which  you  have 
displayed  in  the  capture  of  these  French  vessels.  Your 
daring  and  ability  should  always  make  your  name  one 
to  be  revered  by  those  Britishers  who  follow  the  sea. 
May  your  future  career  upon  the  ocean  but  add  to  the 
laurels  which  you  have  already  won!" 

And  were  they  not  right? 

Seldom  has  such  a  feat  been  accomplished,  and 
seldom  has  one  vessel  come  off  victorious  against  such 
odds.  If  you  love  a  game  warrior,  cheer  for  George 
Walker,  for  he  deserves  it.  If  you  are  an  admirer  of 
the  fighting  quality  in  a  man,  give  three  times  three 
for  the  privateersman  who  had  the  nerve  to  sail  into 
eight  vessels,  —  and  won  out. 

So  much,  indeed,  did  the  British  owners  of  the  pri- 
vateer vessels  think  of  Captain  Walker,  that  he  was 
now  placed  in  command  of  four  ships,  known  as  "  The 
Royal  Family  of  Privateers,"  for  each  was  named 
after  some  member  of  the  English  royal  family.  These 
w^ere  the  Princess  Amelia,  of  twenty- four  guns  and 
one  hundred  and  fifty  men:  the  Prince  Frederick  of 
twenty-six  guns  and  two  hundred  and  sixty  men :  the 
Duke  of  twenty  guns  and  two  hundred  and  sixty  men ; 
and  the  King  George,  of  thirty-two  guns  and  three 
hundred  men.  This  last  boat  was  commanded  by 
Walker,  himself;  the  Duke  by  Edward  Dottin,  a 
staunch  sailor;  the  Prince  Frederick  by  Hugh 
Bromedge;  and  the  Princess  Amelia  by  Robert  Den- 
ham.  The  entire  squadron  carried  nearly  a  thousand 
men  and  one  hundred  and  two  guns,  so,  you  see,  that 


224      FAMOUS   PRIVATEEESMEN 

it  could  do  quite  a  little  damage  to  the  enemies  of 
Merrie  England. 

Sailing  in  May,  1746,  the  squadron  soon  met  with 
hard  luck,  for  the  Prince  Frederick  ran  upon  a  rock 
in  Bristol  Channel,  and  had  to  be  left  behind ;  for  she 
was  badly  punctured  below  the  water-line.  The  three 
others  sailed  for  the  coast  of  France,  and  —  a  week 
later  —  had  a  startling  little  adventure. 

A  heavy  fog  lay  over  the  sobbing  water,  and  the 
three  English  sea-robbers  were  gliding  along  within 
easy  gun-shot  of  each  other,  when  it  was  evident  that 
they  were  near  some  other  vessels.  Voices  came  out 
of  the  mist,  lights  flashed  (for  it  was  near  the  close  of 
day),  and  the  wash  of  water  could  be  heard,  as  the 
waves  beat  against  solid  oak  planking. 

"  Egad !  "  whispered  Captain  Walker  to  one  of  his 
lieutenants.  "  Listen,  my  boy,  and  tell  me  whether 
these  voices  are  French,  Spanish,  or  English." 

The  lieutenant  held  a  speaking-trumpet  to  his  ear. 

The  swish,  swish  of  water  came  to  the  eager  senses 
of  the  anxious  privateersman.     That  was  all! 

Captain  Walker  passed  the  word  around  among 
his  men  to  be  absolutely  silent,  and,  as  he  strained  his 
hearing,  in  order  to  catch  the  faintest  sound  from  the 
strangers,  suddenly  he  heard  the  sentence, 

"  Pressy !  Chantez  une  chanson.  Je  vais  me 
coucher."  (Sing  a  song,  Pressy.  I  am  going  to 
bed.) 

In  a  second  the  gallant  Walker  knew  that,  as  once 
before,  he  was  in  the  midst  of  some  French  ves- 
sels. 


GEORGE   WALKER  225 

"  Caught !  "  he  whispered.  "  And  I  believe  that 
they're  men-of-warsmen !  Now  we're  in  a  pretty 
pickle !  " 

His  officers  scowled. 

"  I  know  that  they're  men-owarsmen,"  said  one, 
"  for,  just  now,  the  fog  lifted  for  a  second,  and  I  could 
make  out  —  by  their  lights  —  that  they  were  large 
gun-ships." 

Captain  Walker  looked  dejected. 

**  The  deuce,"  said  he. 

But  he  soon  regained  his  composure. 

"  Put  every  light  out  on  board,"  he  ordered. 
"  These  fellows  see  us,  for  I  hear  them  bearing  over 
our  way." 

Sure  enough,  from  the  swashing  of  water  and  glim- 
mer of  lights  in  the*  fog,  it  could  be  seen  that  the  great 
lumbering  men-of-war  were  closing  in  upon  the  priva- 
teer. But  the  Frenchmen  had  a  human  eel  to  capture 
and  he  was  equal  to  the  occasion. 

"  Bring  up  a  couple  of  casks  from  below !  "  cried 
Captain  Walker.     They  were  soon  on  deck. 

"  Now  put  a  lantern  in  one  and  lash  them  together," 
he  continued.  "  We'll  alter  our  course  and  skip,  while 
the  Frenchies  will  follow  this  light." 

The  ruse  worked  magnificently,  and,  when  morning 
dawned  and  the  bright  sun  burned  off  the  fog,  the 
French  men-of-war  found  themselves  hovering  around 
a  couple  of  old  casks  with  a  lantern  tied  to  the  top; 
while  Captain  Walker  in  the  King  George  was  scud- 
ding along  the  French  coast,  many  miles  away.  At 
which  the  French  captain  remarked, 


226      FAMOUS   PRIVATEERSMEN 

"Sapristi!  L'oiseau  s'est  envoUe."  (Egad!  The 
bird  has  flown!) 

Not  long  after  this  '*  The  Royal  Family  of  Priva- 
teers "  took  some  valuable  prizes,  and,  having  chased 
a  small,  French  merchantman  into  the  bay  of  Safia,  in 
Morocco,  Captain  Walker  determined  to  capture  her 
at  night,  by  sending  a  party  against  her  in  the  long- 
boats. A  second  lieutenant  was  put  in  charge  of  this 
venture,  and,  at  dark  three  tenders,  crowded  with 
armed  seamen  and  propelled  by  muffled  oars,  started 
after  the  prize.  As  they  neared  the  merchantman  a 
hail  came  through  the  blackness : 

"Qui  est  la?"  (Who  is  there?) 

No  answer  was  made  to  this,  but  the  boats  kept 
straight  on. 

Crash!  Bang! 

A  gun  roared  in  the  faces  of  the  privateers,  and 
shots  came  falHng  around  them  like  hail-stones,  —  but 
still  they  kept  on. 

Again  Crash!   Crash!   Crash! 

The  Frenchmen  were  plying  their  guns  right  will- 
ingly, but  the  English  sailors  could  not  be  stopped, 
and  they  neared  the  vessel  under  vigorous  sweeps  of 
the  oars.  The  lieutenant  in  command  was  badly 
wounded,  and  was  forced  to  lie  in  the  bottom  of  his 
boat,  but  —  in  a  few  moments  —  the  tenders  were 
alongside  the  merchantman,  and  the  sailors,  with  a 
wild  yell,  were  clambering  to  her  deck.  There  was  a 
fierce  hand-to-hand  struggle,  but  nothing  would  gain- 
say the  rush  of  the  British  tars.  In  twenty  minutes 
the  fight  was  all  over  and  the  vessel  was  towed  out  of 


GEORGE   WALKER  227 

the  bay,  in  triumph,  next  morning.  As  she  was  a 
smart,  Httle  craft  she  was  turned  into  a  privateer  in 
place  of  the  Prince  Frederick  (which  had  run 
aground)  and  was  christened  the  Prince  George. 

The  "  Royal  Family  "  continued  upon  its  way,  made 
many  captures,  and  —  after  eight  months  —  put  into 
the  harbor  of  Lisbon  with  prizes  and  prize-money 
amounting  to  £220,000  (about  $1,100,000).  So  yon 
can  see  that  privateering  was  a  very  lucrative  trade  in 
those  days,  when  successfully  pursued.  Not  a  single 
man  had  been  killed  aboard  the  little  fleet,  but  many 
had  been  severely  wounded.  The  ships  were  over- 
hauled, re-fitted,  and,  being  joined  by  the  Prince 
Frederick,  amounted  to  six  in  number,  for  the  vessel 
captured  in  the  harbor  of  Safia  had  been  converted 
into  a  full-fledged  privateer.  Now  was  to  be  one  of 
the  most  gruelling  sea-fights  in  which  George  Walker 
ever  engaged. 

In  the  month  of  October  the  squadron  was  cruising 
off  of  Lagos  Bay,  on  the  coast  of  Portugal,  when  a 
large  sail  was  sighted  at  about  five  in  the  morning. 
The  Princess  Amelia  was  at  anchor  in  the  harbor  of 
Lagos,  so  Captain  Walker  sent  a  small  sloop  (a  re- 
cent capture)  after  her  to  tell  her  to  "  Hurry  up  and 
get  under  way,"  while  he  gave  signal  to  the  other 
vessels  to  chase  the  stranger  at  once.  All  started  after 
the  foreigner,  who  stood  to  the  northward  and  could 
be  seen  to  be  crowding  on  all  possible  canvas.  There 
were  four  ships  in  this  merry  little  chase,  but  two  of 
them  —  the  Duke  and  the  Prince  George  —  dropped 
out,  after  about  an  hour's  run.    They  either  could  not 


228      FAMOUS   PRIVATEERSMEN 

get  up,  or  else  their  captains  grew  tired  of  the  af- 
fair. 

On,  on,  went  the  other  privateers,  and  —  at  about 
noon  —  Walker  drew  near  the  fugitive,  in  the  King 
George.  The  Prince  Frederick,  with  her  twenty-six 
guns,  was  still  some  distance  away,  but  Walker  kept 
after  the  stranger,  although  he  now  saw  that  she  was 
a  large  vessel,  —  much  more  powerful  than  the  King 
George,  with  her  thirty-two  guns  and  three  hundred 
men.  He  was  rapidly  nearing  the  big  fellow,  when  it 
grew  suddenly  calm,  so  that  neither  could  move. 

At  this  moment  an  ejaculation  of  astonishment 
burst  from  the  lips  of  some  of  the  officers  aboard  the 
saucy  King  George. 

"  She's  a  seventy-four !  "  cried  several.  "  We're  in 
a  tight  hole !  " 

Sure  enough,  the  pursued  hoisted  her  color-s,  ran 
out  her  guns,  and  showed  herself  to  be  a  man-of- 
warsman  carrying  seventy- four  cannon :  over  double 
the  amount  of  armament  aboard  the  plucky  King 
George. 

"  I  can't  make  out  whether  she's  Spanish  or  Por- 
tuguese," said  Captain  Walker,  gazing  carefully  at  her 
drooping  flag. 

The  colors  hung  down  in  the  dead  calm,  and  it  was 
impossible  to  tell  whether  they  were  Spanish  or  Por- 
tuguese ;  for  the  two  ensigns  —  at  that  period  —  were 
very  similar. 

The  sea-warriors  drifted  along,  eyeing  each  other, 
for  about  an  hour,  when  the  stranger  ran  in  her  lower 
deck-guns  and  closed  her  port-holes. 


GEORGE   WALKER  229 

"  She's  a  treasure  ship,"  cried  a  sailor.  "  And  she 
won't  fight  if  she  can  avoid  it !  " 

Walker  turned  to  his  officers  and  asked,     . 

"Gentlemen,  shall  we  fight  her?" 

"  Aye !  Aye !  "  came  from  all.  '*  She's  afraid  of 
us!" 

The  vessel,  in  fact,  was  a  treasure  ship  which  had 
been  recently  chased  by  some  English  men-of-war  and 
had  already  landed  her  treasure,  to  the  value  of  about 
one  million  sterling  (about  $5,000,000).  A  slight 
breeze  sprang  up,  at  about  five  in  the  afternoon,  and 
the  big  ship  kept  on  her  course;  the  gamey  King 
George  following,  while  the  white  sails  of  the  Prince 
Frederick  were  far  astern,  as  the  breeze  had  not  yet 
struck  her.  So  they  swashed  along,  the  Englishmen 
anxious  for  a  fight,  and  a  chance  to  overhaul  the  sup- 
posed treasure  which  the  stranger  was  carrying.  At 
eight  o'clock  the  King  George  was  struck  by  a  favor- 
able puff  of  wind,  and  came  quite  close  to  the  seventy- 
four.    It  was  time  for  battle. 

"What  ship  is  that?"  hailed  Captain  Walker,  in 
the  Portuguese  tongue.  He  was  cleared  for  action 
and  his  men  were  all  lying  down  at  their  quarters. 
There  was  no  answer  to  his  challenge. 

"  What  ship  is  that?  "  he  asked  again;  this  time  in 
English. 

A  voice  came  back,  —  also  in  English, 

"  And  what  ship  may  you  be  ?  " 

"  The  King  George." 

Crash!    B-oo-m! 

A  thundering  broadside  belched  from  the  side  of 


230      FAMOUS   PRIVATEERSMEN 

the  seventy-four,  dismounting  two  guns  on  the  port 
side  of  the  King  George,  and  bringing  the  main  topsail 
yard  crashing  to  the  deck.  It  was  now  bright  moon- 
hght,  and  in  its  radiance  the  flag  of  the  stranger  was 
seen  to  blow  straight  out,  disclosing  her  nationality  to 
be  Spanish.  She  was  the  Glorioso :  a  strong  and  pow- 
erful vessel,  ably  officered  and  ably  manned.  She 
towered  above  the  little  King  George  like  a  church- 
spire,  and  her  broadsides  now  sputtered  with  great 
regularity. 

Crash!    Crash!    Crash! 

The  sprightly  little  King  George  kept  after  the  big 
warship  like  a  sword-fish  chasing  a  whale.  She  drew 
so  close  that  some  burning  wads  from  the  Spanish 
guns  set  fire  to  her  mainsail.  Continually  hoping  that 
the  Prince  Frederick  would  come  up,  the  gallant 
Walker  hammered  away  at  the  Glorioso  with  furious 
precision,  and  drove  her  so  near  the  rocks  off  Cape 
Vincent  that  the  castle  guns  began  to  play  upon  the 
two  grappling  warriors  of  the  sea.  The  British  sea- 
captain  fought  and  commanded  with  "  a  calmness 
peculiar  to  himself "  and  his  example  secured  order 
and  discipline  even  in  the  thickest  of  the  fight,  when 
the  mainsail  was  set  on  fire.  He  was  magnificent  in 
action. 

So  the  unequal  struggle  kept  on.  By  half-past  ten 
the  King  George  had  been  so  severely  damaged  aloft 
that  she  could  not  have  escaped  if  she  had  tried.  All 
the  braces  were  shot  away;  the  foremast  was  quite 
disabled;  and  the  mainmast  was  badly  splintered. 
Battered,  torn,  and  distressed  she  kept  banging  away 


GEORGE   WALKER  231 

at  the  great,  towering  Spaniard ;  while  the  big  fellow 
ceased  her  fire  somewhat,  and  ever  now  and  again 
let  go  a  broadside,  like  the  blow  from  the  mouth  of  a 
huge  whale.     It  sounded  like,  Chii-spow! 

But  hurrah !  hurrah !  The  Prince  Frederick  had  at 
last  caught  the  breeze,  and  came  bouncing  by,  her  little 
pennons  fluttering  like  so  many  silk  stockings  on  a 
clothes-line. 

''  Are  you  all  well  ?  "  shouted  her  commander,  as 
he  neared  the  splintered  King  George.  "  You  look  as 
if  you're  sinking." 

Captain  Walker  came  to  the  rail  with  the  speaking- 
trumpet  in  his  hand. 

"  One  killed  and  fifteen  wounded,"  he  answered. 
"  Now  sail  after  that  Spanish  villain  and  take  her, 
in  revenge  for  all  the  damage  that  she  has  done  me. 
She's  a  treasure  ship." 

"  All  right,"  Captain  Dottin  called  back,  and  he 
kept  on  after  the  Glorioso,  which  was  now  rapidly 
drawing  away. 

By  the  bright  moonlight  it  could  be  seen  that  the 
Duke  and  the  Prince  George  were  also  approaching. 
And,  when  they  came  close  enough  to  the  maimed 
and  battered  King  George,  her  captain  called  to  them, 
"  to  keep  on  after  the  Spaniard,  and  catch  the  rascal." 
They  continued  on  their  way,  and,  at  daybreak  the 
three  vessels  could  be  seen,  through  the  glass,  as  they 
closed  in  upon  the  Spanish  game-cock  from  three 
sides.  "  She'll  be  ours  before  nightfall,"  said  Captain 
Walker,  chuckling. 

The  headmost  ship,    apparently  the  Duke   under 


232      FAMOUS    PRIVATEERSMEN 

Captain  Dottin,  could  now  be  seen  to  hotly  engage  the 
GloriosOy  which  greatly  displeased  the  captain  of  the 
dismantled  King  George. 

"  Dottin  will  fire  away  all  of  his  cartridges,"  said 
he,  turning  to  a  few  of  his  officers,  who  clustered 
around  him.  "  He  will  shoot  them  all  off  at  too  great 
a  distance,  and  will  afterwards  be  obliged  to  load 
with  loose  powder,  by  which  some  fatal  accident  is 
sure  to  occur.     He's  a  brave  fellow,  but  a  rash  one !  " 

He  had  scarcely  spoken,  when  a  broadside  rang  out. 
Simultaneously,  with  the  discharge  of  the  guns,  a 
pillar  of  smoke  and  flame  shot  high  into  the  air. 

"  Good  Heavens,  the  Duke  has  blown  up ! "  cried 
Captain  Walker.  "  Dottin  and  his  brave  followers 
have  found  a  watery  grave !  " 

"  It  is  merely  the  smoke  of  a  broadside,"  one  of  the 
officers  interrupted. 

"No!  No!"  answered  Walker,  dejectedly.  "It's 
the  last  that  will  ever  be  seen  of  noble  Dottin  and  his 
men!" 

The  smoke  now  cleared  away  and  no  ship  was  to  be 
seen  upon  the  surface  of  the  water.  The  Glorioso  ^ 
was  still  belching  both  smoke  and  flame,  and  near  her 
were  three  sails,  indistinctly  seen  through  a  haze  of 
smoke  and  fog.  Could  it  not  have  been  the  Duke, 
after  all?  "  Vain  thought,"  cried  bold  Walker,  aloud. 
"  Our  bravest  and  best  ship  has  gone  to  the  bottom." 

This  terrible  incident  had  such  an  effect  upon  the 
seamen  of  the  King  George  that  Captain  Walker  called 
the  officers  aside  into  the  companionway,  and  there 
made  them  a  speech. 


GEORGE   WALKER  233 

"  My  brave  men,"  said  he,  "  you  must  keep  up  an 
air  of  cheerfulness  before  these  fellows  of  ours,  for, 
otherwise  they  will  be  backward  in  fighting,  and  will 
not  have  the  courage  which  we  desire.  Go  among 
them  and  show  no  sign  that  you  are  lacking  in  pleas- 
antry." 

As  he  ceased  speaking  there  was  a  series  of  sudden 
explosions,  mingled  with  cries  of  alarm. 

"  Gad  zooks !  What's  happened !  "  cried  all,  rush- 
ing to  the  deck. 

They  found  matters  in  a  sorry  state,  for  the  crew 
was  in  a  panic;  some  clinging  outside  the  ship;  some 
climbing  out  upon  the  bowsprit,  all  ready  to  jump 
overboard  should  the  vessel  blow  up. 

Captain  Walker  was  astonished.  "  Why,  men !  " 
said  he.    "  What  means  this  confusion?  " 

It  was  easily  explained,  for  the  alarm  had  been 
caused  by  a  seaman  who  stepped  upon  a  number  of 
loaded  muskets,  which  had  been  covered  by  a  sail. 
One  was  fired  off  accidentally,  and  this  exploded  some 
spare  ammunition,  set  the  sail  on  fire,  and  completely 
demoralized  the  crew^  who  still  were  thinking  of  the 
sad  tragedy  which  they  had  just  witnessed.  Order 
was  quickly  restored,  the  blazing  sail  was  torn  down 
and  bucketed,  and  the  terrified  sailors  came  back  to 
their  posts.  When  men  have  their  nerves  shattered,  it 
is  easy  to  startle  them. 

But  how  about  the  Gloriosof 

The  fair-fighting  Spaniard  was  far  out  of  sight,  by 
now,  still  whanging  away  at  her  many  enemies,  and 
Still  proudly  flaunting  the  flag  of  Arragon  in  the  faces 


234      FAMOUS   PRIVATEERSMEN 

of  the  British  war-dogs,  who  were  snapping  and  snarl- 
ing at  her  Hke  a  wolf  pack.  What  became  of  her  was 
not  known  for  several  days,  when  the  poor,  battered 
King  George  staggered  into  a  sheltering  harbor,  there 
to  meet  with  the  Duke  herself,  which  was  Dottin's 
good  ship,  —  the  one  which  all  had  thought  to  have 
exploded  and  sunk. 

''Hurray!"  shouted  many.  "She's  afloat  after 
all!" 

Eager  questioning  brought  out  the  fact  that  it  had 
been  the  frigate  Dartmouth  which  had  exploded;  a 
vessel  which  had  run  near  the  fight  in  order  to  see 
the  fun.  Some  loose  powder  had  set  fire  to  her  maga- 
zine, and  thus  she  had  suffered  the  same  fate  as  the 
Fleuron,  which,  as  you  remember,  had  blown  up,  when 
at  anchor  in  the  harbor  of  Brest.  7^'^  a  wise  ship  that 
keeps  away  from  a  sea  battle. 

Only  seventeen  of  the  crew  of  this  unfortunate 
craft  had  been  picked  up  by  the  boats  of  the  Prince 
Frederick;  one  of  whom  was  an  Irish  lieutenant 
named  O'Brien,  who  was  hauled  aboard  Dottin's  ves- 
sel, clad  only  in  a  night  shirt. 

"  Sirrah !  "  said  he,  bowing  politely.  "  You  must 
excuse  the  unfitness  of  my  dress  to  come  aboard  a 
strange  ship,  but  really  I  left  my  own  in  such  a  hurry 
that  I  had  no  time  to  stay  for  a  change."  He  had 
been  blown  out  of  a  port-hole! 

An  additional  vessel,  the  Rnssel,  had  aided  in  the 
capture  of  the  powerful  Glorias o,  so  it  had  taken  four 
privateers  to  down  the  proud  Castilian :  the  Duke,  the 
Prince  George,  the  Prince  Frederick,  and  the  Russel, 


GEORGE   WALKER  235 

Certainly  she  had  put  up  a  magnificent  battle  and  she 
had  completely  crippled  the  stout  little  craft  sailed  by 
Captain  Walker,  who  was  now  filled  with  chagrin  and 
mortification,  when  he  found  that  the  treasure  (which 
he  had  been  sure  was  in  the  hold)  had  been  safely 
landed  at  Ferrol,  before  he  had  sighted  this  valorous 
man-of-warsman.  It  was  a  great  blow  both  to  him 
and  to  his  men,  and,  upon  arriving  at  Lisbon  he  was 
met  by  one  of  the  owners  of  his  own  vessel,  who 
severely  reprimanded  him  for  fighting  with  such  a 
powerful  boat. 

"  Captain  Walker,"  said  he,  "  I  fear  that  your  fight- 
ing blood  is  superior  to  your  prudence!  " 

But  to  this,  the  game  old  sea-dog  replied,  with  con- 
siderable heat: 

"  Had  the  treasure  been  aboard  the  Glorioso,  as  I 
expected,  my  dear  sir,  your  compliment  would  have 
been  far  different.  Or  had  we  let  her  escape  from  us 
with  the  treasure  aboard,  what  would  you  have  said 
then?" 

To  these  sage  reflections  the  owner  did  not  reply. 

The  honesty  and  courage  of  this  able  seaman  were 
never  questioned,  and  the  following  incident  bears 
good  witness  to  the  first  quality.  Upon  one  occasion 
he  was  sailing  for  Lisbon  in  a  well-armed  privateer, 
when  a  couple  of  East  India  trading  ships  offered  him 
£i,ocx)  ($5,000)  if  he  would  act  as  their  guard  and 
protect  them  from  the  enemy. 

"  Gentlemen,"  said  he  to  the  captain  of  these  vessels, 
"  I  shall  never  take  a  reward  for  what  I  consider  it 
my  duty  to  do  without  one.    I  consider  it  my  bounden 


236      FAMOUS   PEIVATEERSMEN 

duty  to  conduct  you  both  safely  into  port,  for  you 
are  both  British  ships,  and  I  am  engaged  to  fight  the 
enemies  of  our  King." 

So  he  convoyed  them  safely  into  port  and  would 
not  take  even  the  smallest  present,  in  recompense  for 
his  services. 

As  a  fighter  he  had  no  superior.  War  is  simply 
glorified  sport  and  those  who  are  best  trained  athlet- 
ically can  usually  win  upon  the  battle-field.  Did  not 
Wellington  say,  "  The  battle  of  Waterloo  was  won 
upon  the  foot-ball  grounds  of  Eton  and  Harrow?" 
Which  was  another  way  of  saying  that  the  boys  who 
had  learned  to  stand  punishment  upon  the  athletic 
field,  could  take  it  manfully  and  well  upon  the  field  of 
battle. 

Walker  believed  in  athletic  exercise  and  made  his 
sailors  continually  practice  both  gunnery  and  work 
with  the  cutlass.  They  were  always  in  training  and 
always  prepared.  That  is  the  reason  why  they  won. 
As  you  know,  if  you  want  to  win  in  athletics  you  have 
to  train  hard  and  practice  daily.  If  you  want  to  win 
at  warfare  you  have  to  do  likewise.  The  most  athletic 
nation  is  the  nation  which  will  win  in  the  long  fight, 
providing  that  it  has  sufBqient  resources  and  money 
to  carry  out  a  war,  once  that  it  has  placed  its  men  in 
the  field.  It  takes  a  great  deal  of  money  to  fight  a 
war,  but  it  takes  trained  men  also,  and  those  who  are 
the  most  fit  will  win  every  time. 

The  English  are  an  athletic  nation,  an  island  na- 
tion, and  great  numbers  of  her  people  have  had  to 
follow  the  5,ea  as  a  matter  of  course.    Hence  En^^land 


GEORGE   WALKER  237 

has  always  had  a  vast  quantity  of  well-trained  seamen 
at  her  beck  and  call.  For  this  reason  she  has  been 
more  successful  upon  the  ocean  than  many  of  her 
neighbors.     Will  she  continue  to  be? 

//  she  continues  to  breed  men  like  George  Walker 
there  is  little  reason  to  doubt  that  she  will  always  be 
a  winner  in  sea  fighting. 

As  for  this  famous  mariner,  little  is  known  of  his 
later  life  save  that  he  was  once  imprisoned  for  debt, 
but  this  was  no  disgrace  in  those  times  and  I  am  sure 
that  he  was  soon  liberated.  He  died  September  20th, 
1777,  but  where  he  was  buried  is  not  known,  nor  is 
there  any  record  of  his  marriage.  At  any  rate  he  has 
left  the  reputation  of  a  brave  and  valiant  seaman  who 
was  beloved  by  his  men,  feared  by  his  enemies,  and 
appreciated  by  his  contemporaries. 

"  Britannia's  glory  first  from  ships  arose ; 
To  shipping  still  her  power  and  wealth  she  owes. 
Let  each  experienced  Briton  then  impart, 
His  naval  skill  to  perfect  naval  art." 


BIVOUAC   OF  THE    DEAD 

Their  silvered  swords  are  red  with  rust. 

Their  plumed  heads  are  bowed; 

Their  haughty  banner,  trailed  in  dust. 

Is  now  their  martial  shroud. 

And  plenteous  funeral  tears  have  washed 

The  red  stains  from  each  brow, 

And  the  proud  forms,  by  battle  gashed, 

Are  free  from  anguish  now. 

Yon  marble  minstrel's  voiceless  stone 

In  deathless  song  shall  tell, 

When  many  a  vanished  age  hath  flown, 

The  story  how  ye  fell: 

Nor  wreck,  nor  change,  nor  winter's  blight. 

Nor  Time's  remorseless  gloom. 

Shall  dim  one  ray  of  glory's  light 

That  gilds  your  deathless  tomb. 


From  "  The  Army  and  Navy  of  the  United  States." 

AMERICAN    PRIVATEER   TAKING    POSSESSION    OF   A    PRIZE. 


JOHN  PAUL   JONES 
THE  FOUNDER  OF  THE  AMERICAN  NAVY 

(1747 -1792) 


"  Every  generation  has  its  own  war.     To  forget  the  disagree- 
able is  a  characteristic  of  the  human  mind."  —  The  Philosopher. 


JOHN    PAUL    JONES 
THE    FOUNDER    OF    THE  AMERICAN 

NAVY 
(1747 -1792) 

"  Why !     Shiver  my  bones  !     It's  John  Paul  Jones ! 
Johnny  the  Pirate  !     Johnny  should  swing ! 
Johnny  who  hails  from  Old  Scotlant  y'  know, 
Johnny  who's  tryin'  to  fight  our  good  King. 
Shiver  my  Timbers  !    We'll  catch  the  old  fox ! 
Clew  up  those  top-sails!     Ware  0'  th'  shoals! 
Fire  'cross  his  bow-lines!     Steer  for  th'  rocks! 
Ease  away  on  the  jib-boom;    shoot  as  she  rolls! 

Oh !   Johnny,  my  Johnny,  you're  slick  as  can  be, 
But,  Johnny,  My  John,  you'll  be  nipped  present-ly." 

—  Song   of   the  English  Privateers.  —  1794. 

A  FRENCH  frigate  lay  in  the  silvery  water  off 
Norfolk,  Virginia,  and,  as  she  swung  quietly 
upon  her  anchor  chains,  a  small  sloop  came 
bobbing  alongside.  A  hail  arose  from  her  stern, 
where  sat  a  man  of  about  twenty-eight  years;  of 
medium  stature,  strongly  built  and  swarthy.  He  was 
dressed  in  the  gray  clothing  of  a  Virginian  planter. 

"  Hallo,"  he  shouted  in  very  good  French.  "  May 
I  come  aboard  ?  " 

*"'  Cerfainemenf!  Certainement!  "  cried  a  French 
officer,  as  he  neared  the  rail.  "  Welcome,  Monsieur 
Jones!" 

Ml 


242      FAMOUS   PRIVATEERSMEN 

And,  as  the  Virginian  farmer  scrambled  upon  the 
deck,  he  was  greeted  most  effusively  by  a  handsome 
nobleman.  It  was  Louis  Philippe  Joseph,  Duke  de 
Chartres;  known  as  "the  Sailor  Prince  of  France." 
The  Virginian  was  John  Paul  Jones,  of  "  White- 
haven "  upon  the  river  Rappahannock. 

"  I  bring  you  delicacies  of  the  season  from  my  gar- 
den," said  the  planter,  smiling.  "  Some  for  you,  and 
some  for  the  conmiander  —  the  Commodore  de  Ker- 
saint.  I  trust  that  you  will  accept  them,  with  my 
kindest  regards.  Meanwhile,  I  beg  that  you  will  give 
me  leave  to  inspect  your  vessel  and  obtain  informa- 
tion in  regard  to  her  plan,  construction  of  the  hull, 
arrangement  of  the  batteries,  her  spars,  her  rig  and 
other  technical  particulars.  For,  know  you,  Gentle- 
men, that  war  has  just  commenced  between  Great 
Britain  and  her  Colonies  and  the  newly-formed  Ma- 
rine Department  of  the  Government  will  require  a 
knowledge  of  ships  and  their  construction.  Partly 
for  this  I  have  visited  you." 

Kersaint's  face  grew  sober. 

"  Monsieur  Jones,"  said  he,  "  I  have  just  heard  the 
news  from  Lexington  and  I  am  the  senior  officer  upon 
this  coast.  France  is  at  peace  with  England.  The 
situation  for  me  is  a  delicate  one.  I  must  refuse  to 
allow  you  to  sketch  any  plans  of  my  vessel." 

But  the  young  Duke  de  Chartres  looked  upon  the 
matter  in  a  different  light. 

"  You  shall  have  all  the  assistance  from  me  that 
you  wish,"  he  cried.  "  I  do  not  fear  the  displeasure 
of  England." 


JOHN   PAUL   JONES  243 

So  the  Virginian  planter  was  allowed  to  obtain  the 
most  complete  data  of  the  new  frigate,  even  to  copies 
of  deck  plans  and  sail  spread,  which  he  caused  his 
carpenter  to  make.  John  Paul  Jones  was  the  guest 
of  the  Frenchman  for  two  or  three  days. 

"  And  now  you  will  visit  my  plantation,"  said  he, 
when  the  time  came  for  him  to  leave.  "  Is  it  not  so  ? 
For  there  I  can  repay  some  of  the  kindnesses  which 
you  have  shown  me." 

"  That  we  cannot  do,"  replied  the  French  com- 
mander. ''  It  would  be  most  impolitic  for  us  to  ac- 
cept entertainment  ashore  from  persons  known  to  be 
hostile  to  King  George.  But  we  thank  you,  exceed- 
ingly, for  your  kind  offer." 

So  John  Paul  Jones  proceeded  alone  to  his  plan- 
tation, and  the  French  war-ship  sailed  for  Corunna, 
Spain,  after  firing  one  gun  as  a  salute  to  the  new- 
born nation. 

The  son  of  a  Scotch  gardener  of  Arbigland,  Parish 
of  Kirkbean,  the  youthful  farmer  had  emigrated  to 
America,  where  his  brother  owned  the  large  planta- 
tion upon  which  he  now  resided.  He  found  his  kins- 
man dying  of  what  was  then  called  lung  fever  —  in 
our  time  pneumonia  —  and,  as  he  willed  him  his  Vir- 
ginian possessions,  Jones  was  soon  residing  upon 
"  3,000  acres  of  prime  land,  on  the  right  bank  of  the 
Rappahannock;  1,000  acres  cleared  and  under  plough, 
or  grass;  with  2,000  acres  of  strong,  first-growth 
timber."  He  had  a  grist-mill ;  a  mansion;  overseer's 
houses;  negro  quarters;  stables;  tobacco  houses; 
threshing  floors;    thirty  negroes  of  all  ages;    twenty 


244      FAMOUS   PRIVATEERSMEN 

horses  and  colts;  eighty  neat  cattle  and  calves;  and 
many  sheep  and  swine.  Thus  lived  the  future  sea- 
captain;  in  peace,  plenty,  and  seclusion,  at  the  out- 
break of  the  American  Revolution. 

John  Paul  Jones  had  gone  to  sea  at  the  early  age 
of  twelve.  As  a  master's  apprentice  upon  the  stout 
brig  Friendship,  he  had  sailed  from  Scotland  to  the 
North  American  Colonies,  the  West  Indies,  and  back 
again.  He  had  kept  to  his  seaman's  life,  and  —  so 
improved  in  knowledge  of  his  profession  —  that  he 
became  second  mate;  then  first  mate;  then  Captain. 
At  twenty-one  he  had  amassed  a  fortune  of  about 
one  thousand  guineas  ($5,000)  in  gold,  —  then  equal, 
,in  purchasing  power,  to  three  times  this  sum.  Be- 
sides this  he  had  studied  French  and  Spanish  assidu- 
ously, so  that  he  could  speak  the  first  like  a  native. 
It  was  to  be  of  great  help  to  the  ambitious  mariner. 
And  he  had  plenty  of  nerve,  as  the  following  incident 
bears  full  witness : 

Upon  one  of  his  many  voyages,  the  crew  was  re- 
duced, by  fever,  to  five  or  six  hands.  One  of  them 
was  a  huge  mulatto  named  Munro  —  or  "  Mungo  "  — 
Maxwell.  They  became  mutinous,  and,  as  Captain 
Jones  was  the  only  officer  who  could  keiep  the  deck, 
it  was  found  necessary  to  subdue  the  refractory  sea- 
man. 

"  Will  you  obey  my  orders  ?  "  cried  Jones,  picking 
up  a  belaying  pin. 

"  You  go  sit  down,"  cried  Maxwell.  "  I  no  like 
you.    Pish!    I  could  kill  you  with  one  crack." 

John    Paul   Jones   did   not   answer,    but    walking 


JOHN   PAUL   JONES  245 

towards  the  big  black,  he  struck  him  just  one  blow 
with  his  pin.  "  Mungo ''  dropped  to  the  deck  and  lay 
there.     He  never  rose  again. 

Upon  arriving  at  port,  Captain  Jones  surrendered 
to  the  authorities,  and  asked  for  a  trial.  It  was  given 
him. 

"  Captain  Paul,"  asked  the  Judge,  "  are  you,  in 
conscience,  satisfied  that  you  used  no  more  force  than 
was  necessary  to  preserve  discipline  on  your  ship?  " 

"  May  it  please  the  most  Honorable  Court,  Sir," 
answered  the  doughty  seaman,  "  it  became  imperative 
to  strike  the  mutinous  sailor,  Maxwell.  Whenever 
it  becomes  necessary  for  a  commanding  officer  to  hit 
a  seaman,  it  is  also  necessary  to  strike  with  a  weapon. 
I  may  say  that  the  necessity  to  strike  carries  with  it 
the  necessity  to  kill,  or  to  completely  disable  the  mu- 
tineer. I  had  two  brace  of  loaded  pistols  in  my  belt, 
and  could  easily  have  shot  him.  I  struck  with  a 
belaying  pin  in  preference,  because  I  hoped  that  I 
might  subdue  him  without  killing  him.  But  the  re- 
sult proved  otherwise.  I  trust  that  the  Honorable 
Court  and  the  jury  will  take  due  account  of  the  fact 
that,  though  amply  provided  with  pistols  throwing 
ounce  balls,  necessarily  fatal  weapons;  I  used  a  be- 
laying pin,  which,  though  dangerous,  is  not  neces- 
sarily a  fatal  weapon." 

The  Judge  smiled  and  Captain  Paul  was  acquitted. 

The  famous  Lord  Nelson  once  said :  "  A  naval 
officer,  unlike  a  military  commander,  can  have  no 
fixed  plans.  He  must  always  be  ready  for  the  chance. 
It  may  come  to-morrow,  or  next  week,  or  next  year, 


246      FAMOUS   PRIVATEERSMEN 

or  never;  but  he  must  be  always  ready!  "  Nunquam 
non  Paratus.     (Never  unprepared.) 

Paul  Jones  kept  a  copy  of  this  maxim  in  his  head. 
He  was  always  in  training;  always  on  the  qui  vive; 
always  prepared.  And  —  because  he  was  always  pre- 
pared—  he  accomplished  what  would  seem  to  be  the 
impossible. 

Shortly  placed  in  command  of  a  sloop-of-war,  the 
Alfred  (one  of  the  four  vessels  which  constituted  the 
American  Navy),  Lieutenant  Jones  assisted  in  an 
expedition  against  Fort  Nassau,  New  Providence 
Island,  in  the  Bahamas,  which  was  a  complete  and 
absolute  failure.  On  the  way  home,  and  when  pass- 
ing the  end  of  Long  Island,  his  boat  was  chased  by 
the  twenty-gun  sloop-of-war  Glasgow.  The  long  shot 
kicked  up  a  lot  of  spray  around  the  fleet  American 
vessel,  but  it  was  of  no  use.  Jones  got  away  and 
sailed  into  Newport  Harbor,  Rhode  Island,  with  sails 
full  of  holes  and  stern-posts  peppered  with  lead.  But 
he  was  created  a  Captain ;  placed  in  command  of  the 
Providence  —  sloop-of-war,  fourteen  guns  and  one 
hundred  and  seven  men  —  and  soon  harried  the  seas 
in  search  of  fighting  and  adventure.  With  him  were 
two  faithful  negro  boys  —  Cato  and  Scipio  —  who 
followed  him  through  the  many  vicissitudes  of  the 
Revolutionary  War. 

The  seas  traversed  by  the  Providence  were  full  of 
English  cruisers  —  superior  in  size  to  the  saucy 
American  —  but  inferior  in  alertness  and  resources  of 
her  commander  and  her  crew.  She  captured  sixteen 
vessels  —  of  which  eight  were  sent  to  port  and  eight 


JOHN   PAUL   JONES  247 

were  destroyed  at  sea.  Twice  she  was  chased  by 
British  frigates,  and,  on  one  of  these  occasions,  nar- 
rowly escaped  capture. 

As  the  httle  sloop  was  running  into  one  of  the 
many  harbors  of  the  coast,  a  fast-sailing  frigate  bore 
down  upon  her  from  the  starboard  quarter. 

Whang! 

Her  bow-guns  spoke  and  said  "  Heave  to !  " 

But  Captain  Jones  had  heard  this  call  before,  and 
kept  on  upon  his  course. 

"  She's  got  me,"  said  he.  "  But,  as  the  breeze  is 
fresh  I  may  run  away.  Stand  ready,  Boys,  and  let 
go  your  tackle  immediate,  when  I  give  the  command !  " 

The  helm  was  now  put  hard-up  and  the  Providence 
crept  into  the  wind.  Closer  and  closer  came  the  brig 
—  now  her  bow-guns  sputtered  —  and  a  shot  rico- 
chetted  near  the  lean  prow  of  the  Providence.  But 
the  sloop  kept  on. 

Suddenly  —  just  as  the  brig  drew  alongside  —  Paul 
Jones  swung  his  rudder  over,  wore  around  in  the 
wind,  and  ran  dead  to  leeward. 

"  Watch  her  sniffle !  "  cried  the  gallant  Captain,  as 
the  brig  chug-chugged  on  the  dancing  waves,  and, 
endeavoring  to  box  short  about,  came  up  into  the 
wind.  But  fortune  favored  the  American  skipper. 
Just  then  a  squall  struck  the  Englishman;  she  lost 
steering  way;  and  hung  upon  the  wav^s  like  a  huge 
rubber  ball,  while  her  Captain  said  things  that  cannot 
be  printed. 

When  in  this  condition,  Jones  ran  his  boat  within 
half  gun-shot,  gave  her  a  dose  of  iron  from  one  of 


S48      J?AMOTJS   PRIVATEERSMEN 

his  stern-guns,  and  —  before  the  frigate  could  get 
squared  away  —  was  pounding  off  before  the  wind, 
which  was  the  sloop's  best  point  of  sailing. 

"  Well,''  said  the  crafty  John  Paul,  his  face 
wreathed  in  smiles.  "  If  the  frigate  had  simply  fol- 
lowed my  manoeuver  of  wearing  around  under  easy 
helm  and  trimming  her  sails  as  the  wind  bore,  I  could 
not  have  distanced  her  much  in  the  alteration  of  the 
course,  and  she  must  have  come  off  the  wind  very 
nearly  with  me,  and  before  I  could  get  out  of  range. 

"  I  do  not  take  to  myself  too  great  credit  for  get- 
ting away.  I  did  the  best  that  I  could,  but  there  was 
more  luck  than  sense  to  it.  A  good  or  bad  puff  of 
wind  foils  all  kinds  of  skill  one  way  or  the  other  — 
and  this  time  when  I  saw  the  little  squall  cat's-pawing 
to  windward  —  I  thought  that  I  would  ware  ship  and 
see  if  the  Britisher  wouldn't  get  taken  aback.  The 
old  saying  that  '  Discretion  is  the  better  part  of  valor  ' 
may,  I  think,  be  changed  to  '  Impudence  is  —  or 
may  be,  sometimes  —  the  better  part  of  discretion.'  " 

Two  kinds  of  news  greeted  the  slippery  sailor  when 
he  arrived  in  port.  One  was  a  letter  from  Thomas 
Jefferson,  enclosing  his  commission  as  Captain  in  the 
Continental  Navy,  by  Act  of  Congress.  The  other  — 
an  epistle  from  his  agents  in  Virginia,  informing  him, 
that,  during  the  month  of  July  previous,  his  planta- 
tion had  been  utterly  ravaged  by  an  expedition  of 
British  and  Tories  (Virginians  who  sided  with  Eng- 
land in  the  war)  under  Lord  Dunmore.  His  buildings 
had  all  been  burned ;  his  wharf  demolished ;  his  live- 
stock killed;   and  every  one  of  his  able-bodied  slaves 


JOHN   PAUL   JONES  249 

of  both  sexes  had  been  carried  off  to  Jamaica  to  be 
sold.  The  enemy  had  also  destroyed  his  growing 
crops ;  cut  down  his  fruit  trees ;  in  short,  nothing  was 
left  of  his  once  prosperous  and  valuable  plantation 
but  the  bare  ground. 

"  This  is  part  of  the  fortunes  of  war,"  said  Jones. 
"I  accept  the  extreme  animosity  displayed  by  Lord 
Dunmore  as  a  compliment  to  the  sincerity  of  my  at- 
tachment to  the  cause  of  liberty." 

Bold  words,  well  spoken  by  a  bold  man ! 

"  But,"  continued  the  able  sailor,  "  I  most  sadly 
deplore  the  fate  of  my  poor  negroes.  The  plantation 
was  to  them  a  home,  not  a  place  of  bondage.  Their 
existence  was  a  species  of  grown-up  childhood,  not 
slavery.  Now  they  are  torn  away  and  carried  off 
to  die  under  the  pestilence  and  lash  of  Jamaica  cane- 
fields;  and  the  price  of  their  poor  bodies  will  swell 
the  pockets  of  English  slave-traders.  For  this  cruelty 
to  those  innocent,  harmless  people,  I  hope  sometime, 
somehow,  to  find  an  opportunity  to  exact  a  reckon- 
ing." 

Again  bold  sentiments,  —  and  the  reckoning,  too, 
was  forthcoming. 

'^  I  have  no  fortune  left  but  my  sword,  and  no 
prospect  except  that  of  getting  alongside  of  the  en- 
emy," wrote  the  impoverished  sea-captain  to  a  Mr. 
Hewes. 

This  prospect  also  was  to  soon  have  ample  fulfil- 
ment. 

Ordered  to  take  command  of  the  Alfred,  Captain 
Jones  made  a  short  cruise  eastward,  in  1776,  accom- 


250      FAMOUS   PRIVATBERSMEN 

panied  by  the  staunch  Httle  Providence.  The  journey 
lasted  only  thirty-three  days,  but,  during  that  time, 
seven  ships  of  the  enemy  fell  into  the  clutches  of  the 
two  American  vessels. 

"  Aha !  "  cried  Captain  Jones,  as  he  rubbed  his 
hands.  "  This  looks  more  propitious  for  our  cause. 
We  have  taken  the  Mellish  and  the  Biddeford.  Let 
us  break  into  them  and  see  how  much  of  the  King's 
treasure  has  been  secured." 

And  it  was  indeed  good  treasure ! 

The  Mellish  was  found  to  contain  ten  thousand 
complete  uniforms,  including  cloaks,  boots,  socks  and 
woollen  shirts,  for  the  winter  supply  of  General 
Howe's  army ;  seven  thousand  pairs  of  blankets ;  one 
thousand  four  hundred  tents ;  six  hundred  saddles  and 
complete  cavalry  equipments;  one  million  seven  hun- 
dred thousand  rounds  of  fixed  ammunition  (musket 
cartridges);  a  large  quantity  of  medical  stores ;  forty 
cases  of  surgical  instruments;  and  forty-six  soldiers 
who  were  recruits  sent  out  to  join  the  various  British 
regiments  then  serving  in  the  Colonies. 

The  larger  prize  —  the  Biddeford  —  carried  one 
thousand  seven  hundred  fur  overcoats  for  the  use  of 
the  Canadian  troops;  eleven  thousand  pairs  of  blan- 
kets, intended  partly  for  the  British  troops  in  Canada, 
and  partly  for  the  Indians  then  in  British  pay  along 
the  northern  frontier;  one  thousand  small-bore  guns 
of  the  type  then  known  as  the  "  Indian-trade  smooth- 
bore," with  hatchets,  knives,  and  boxes  of  flint  in 
proportion,  to  arm  the  redskins.  There  were  eight 
light  six-pounder  field  guns  and  complete  harness  and 


JOHN   PAUL   JONES  251 

other  equipage  for  the  two  four-gun  batteries  of  horse- 
artillery.  Also  some  wines  and  table  supplies  for  Sir 
Guy  Carleton  and  a  case  of  fine  Galway  duelling 
pistols  for  a  British  officer  then  serving  in  Canada. 

**  These  I  will  appropriate  as  mine  own  portion," 
cried  Captain  Jones.  ''  And  also  a  share  of  the  wines, 
for  I  must  have  something  to  drink  the  health  of  mine 
enemy  in."  And  —  so  saying  —  he  chuckled  glee- 
fully.   It  had  been  a  rich  haul. 

But  the  Captain  was  not  happy.  His  pet  project 
was  to  cruise  in  European  waters,  and  he  wanted  to 
get  near  the  British  coast  with  a  ship  —  or  better  — 
a  squadron  of  some  force. 

"  Cruises  along  the  American  coast,"  said  he,  "  will 
annoy  the  enemy  and  result  in  capture  of  small  ships 
and  consorts  from  time  to  time.  But  who  —  forsooth 
—  will  hear  of  this  in  Europe?  We  will  add  nothing 
to  our  prestige  as  a  new  nation  if  we  win  victories 
upon  this  side  of  the  ocean." 

All  who  heard  him  were  much  impressed  by  the 
vehement  earnestness  of  his  arguments. 

'*  You  have  had  so  much  success,  Mr.  Jones,"  said 
they,  "  that  we  feel  you  will  have  still  greater  good 
fortune  in  future  years." 

And  Jones  said  to  himself :  "  Oh,  if  I  only  could 
get  the  chance !  " 

It  soon  came,  for  on  June  the  14th,  1777,  the 
Continental  Congress  passed  the  following  resolu- 
tion: 

''Resolved:  That  Captain  John  Paul  Jones  be  ap- 
pointed to  command  the  ship  Ranger''  (a  brand-new 


252      FAMOUS   PRIVATEERSMEN 

sloop-of-war  which  had  just  been  launched  at  Ports- 
mouth, N.  H.). 

This  boat  was  designed  to  carry  a  battery  of  twenty 
long  six-pounders  and  was  planned  expressly  for 
speed.  She  was  one  hundred  and  sixteen  feet  long, 
twenty-eight  feet  in  breadth,  and  her  bottom  was 
covered  with  copper:  the  first  American  ship  to  be 
thus  protected.  Captain  Jones  put  fourteen  long  nine- 
pounders  in  her  and  only  four  six-pounders,  but  even 
then  she  was  top-heavy. 

In  spite  of  the  fact  that  it  was  not  quite  safe  to 
carry  full  sail,  if  clearing  to  windward,  close-hauled 
in  squally  weather;  when  running  free  —  before  the 
wind  —  she  could  course  through  the  water  like  a 
jack-rabbit.  In  outward  appearance  she  was  a  per- 
fect beauty,  and,  as  she  was  rather  low  in  the  water 
for  her  length,  and  her  masts  raked  two  or  three 
degrees  more  than  any  other  ship  of  the  day,  she 
was  —  on  the  whole  —  the  sauciest  craft  afloat.  Jones 
was  delighted. 

"  I  have  the  best  crew  I  have  ever  seen,"  said  he. 
"  I  believe  it  is  the  best  in  the  world.  They  are  nearly 
all  native  Americans,  and  the  proportion  of  able  sea- 
men to  the  total  is  much  beyond  the  average.  I'm 
going  to  make  one  or  two  short  runs  off  the  coast  — 
a  day  or  two  at  a  time  —  to  shake  down  the  sails  and 
find  the  best  trim  of  the  ship.  Then  away  to  the 
shores  of  England  and  France !  " 

He  waited  impatiently  for  orders  to  proceed  across 
the  blue  Atlantic.  On  October  the  i8th,  1777,  a 
courier  raced  frantically  into  Portsmouth,  crying, 


JOHN   PAUL   JONES  253 

"  Burgoyne  has  surrendered !  Burgoyne  has  sur- 
rendered !  "  And  Jones'  impatience  to  be  off  increased 
ten-fold. 

There  were  no  details  of  the  American  victory,  for 
the  courier  had  reached  the  sleepy  New  England  town 
from  the  field  of  Stillwater,  in  about  thirty  hours,  and 
it  was  one  hundred  and  forty-seven  miles  —  as  the 
crow  flies  —  or,  about  one  hundred  and  seventy-five 
by  the  shortest  road.  He  had  stopped  only  long 
enough  to  saddle  a  fresh  horse  and  shift  his  saddle, 
eating  his  meals  in  the  stirrups,  and  never  thinking 
of  rest  until  he  had  shouted  his  tidings  for  three 
full  days.  The  patriot  country  was  wild  with  en- 
thusiasm. 

"  I  will  spread  the  news  in  France  in  thirty  days/' 
said  Jones,  when  his  dispatches  were  placed  in  his 
hands,  about  midnight  of  October  the  thirty-first. 
And,  running  by  the  whirling  eddies  of  "  Pull-and-be- 
damned  "  Point,  he  soon  had  the  Ranger  clear  of  the 
low-lying  Isle  of  Shoals :  the  sea  cross  and  choppy, 
but  the  good  ship  bowling  along  before  a  fresh  gale 
of  wind. 

"  I  had  sailed  with  many  Captains,"  writes  Elijah 
Hall,  second  Lieutenant  of  the  staunch,  little  vessel, 
"  but  I  never  had  seen  a  ship  crowded  as  Captain 
Jones  drove  the  Ranger.  The  wind  held  northeasterly 
and  fresh  'til  we  cleared  Sable  Island  and  began  to 
draw  on  to  the  Banks.  Then  it  came  northeast  and 
east-northeast  with  many  snow  squalls,  and  thick  of 
nights." 

Imagine  the  situation  of  the  Ranger's  crew,  with 


254      FAMOUS   PRIVATEERSMEN 

a  top-heavy,  cranky  ship  under  their  f^et,  and  a 
Commander  who  day  and  night  insisted  on  every 
rag  she  could  stagger  under,  without  laying  clear 
down ! 

As  it  was,  slie  came  close  to  beam-ends  more  than 
once,  and  on  one  occasion  righted  only  by  letting-fly 
her  sheets  cut  with  hatchets.  During  all  this  trying 
work  Captain  Jones  was  his  own  navigating  officer, 
keeping  the  deck  eighteen  or  twenty  hours  out  of  the 
twenty- four;  often  serving  extra  grog  to  the  men 
with  his  own  hands;  and,  by  his  example,  silencing 
all  disposition  to  grumble.  In  the  worst  of  it,  the 
watch  and  watch  was  lap-watched,  so  that  the  men 
would  be  eight  hours  on  to  four  off;  but  no  one  com- 
plained. It  speaks  well  alike  for  commander  and  crew 
that  not  a  man  was  punished  or  even  severely  repri- 
manded during  the  terrific  voyage. 

But  Captain  Jones  made  good  his  boast.  He  actu- 
ally did  land  at  Nantes  —  upon  the  coast  of  France  — 
early  in  the  morning  of  December  second,  1777,  thirty- 
two  days  out  from  Portsmouth.  His  crew  were  jubi- 
lant, and  sang  a  song  which  ran : 

"  So  now  we  had  him  hard  and  fast, 
Burgoyne  laid  down  his  arms  at  last. 
And  that  is  why  we  brave  the  blast, 
To  carry  the  news  to  London! 
Heigh-ho!     Carry  the  News! 
Go!     Go!     Carry  the  News! 
Tell  old  King  George  that  he's  undone ! 
He's  licked  by  the  Yankee  squirrel  gun. 

Go! 
Go! 

Carry   the   news   to   London ! " 


JOHN   PAUL   JONES  255 

And  Captain  John  made  haste  to  proceed  to  Paris, 

placing  the  dispatches  in  the  hands  of  Dr.  Franklin 

early  upon  the  fifth  day  of  December,  —  travelling 

two  hundred  and  twenty  miles  in  sixty  hours.     He 

returned  to  his  ship  about  the  middle  of  the  month, 

to  find  that  several  of  the  crew  were  mutinous. 

' — ^ 
''See  here.  Captain,"  said  one  —  a  seaman  from\ 

Portsmouth,  New  Hampshire  — "  Me  and  my  pals 
enlisted  at  home  after  readin'  a  hand-bill  which  said 
that  we  wuz  to  get  $40.00  apiece  extra,  for  this  cruise. 
Now,  your  young  Lieutenant  tells  us  that  the  reg'la- 
tions  of  Congress  say  that  we  are  to  only  get  th'  regu- 
lar salary  allotted  by  those  old  pals,  who  make  our 
laws.  We  came  with  you  thinkin'  that  we  wuz  ter 
git  this  money,  and,  by  gum,  we  intend  to  git  it !  " 

"  Calm  yourself,  my  good  fellow,"  said  Jones  sooth- 
ingly.   "  If  the  hand-bill  said  that  you  were  to  receive . 
$40.00  you  shall  have  it.    You  shall  get  this  sum  evenj 
if  I  have  to  pay  it  myself." 

And  this  he  did. 

"  I  would  not  deceive  any  man  who  has  entered 
or  may  enter,  to  serve  in  my  command,"  remarked 
John  Paul  Jones.  "  I  consider  myself  as  being  under 
a  personal  obligation  to  these  brave  men,  who  have 
cheerfully  enlisted  to  serve  with  me,  and  I  accept  their 
act  as  a  proof  of  their  good  opinion  of  me,  which  I 
value  so  highly,  that  I  cannot  permit  it  to  be  dampened 
in  the  least  degree,  by  misunderstanding,  or  failure 
to  perform  engagements.  I  wish  all  my  men  to  be 
happy  and  contented.  The  conditions  of  the  hand- 
bills will  be  strictly  complied  with." 


/ 


256      FAMOUS   PRIVATEERSMEN 

Accordingly  he  disbursed  one  hundred  and  forty- 
seven  guineas  (about  $800.00)  out  of  his  own  pocket, 
Jin  making  good  the  terms  of  the  hand-bill.  Is  it  any 
wonder  that  the  gallant  seaman  was  popular  with  his 
followers  ? 

But  the  Ranger  lay  at  Brest  —  eager  for  action  — 
her  light  sails  furled;  her  spars  shining  with  new 
varnish;  her  polished  guns  winking  in  the  rays  of 
the  sun. 

"  Come,  my  Hearties ! "  cried  Captain  Jones  on 
April  the  loth,  "  we'll  hie  us  out  to  the  west  coast 
of  Ireland  and  see  if  our  new  ship  cannot  make  a  good 
name  for  herself." 

Sails  were  hoisted  upon  the  staunch,  little  vessel. 
Her  bow  was  turned  toward  the  ocean  —  and  —  with 
the  new  flag  of  the  infant  republic  fluttering  from 
her  masts,  the  Ranger  went  forth  for  battle,  for  plun- 
der, and  for  glory.     She  was  to  get  a  little  of  each. 

Arriving  oflf  the  coast  of  Cumberland,  and,  learning 
from  fishermen  decoyed  on  board,  that  there  was  a 
large  amount  of  shipping  in  the  harbor  of  White- 
haven, with  no  warship  of  superior  force  in  the  neigh- 
iborhood  to  protect  it,  the  bold  American  skipper  re- 
solved to  make  a  dash  into  this  quiet  cove,  with  a 
view  of  destroying  the  ships  there  in  port.  The  Brit- 
ish authorities  had  no  suspicion  of  his  presence  in  the 
Irish  Sea. 

As  the  Ranger  drew  near  to  Whitehaven,  the  wind 
blew  such  a  gale  from  the  southwest,  that  it  was  im- 
possible to  land  a  boat. 

"We  must  hold  off  until  the  breeze  slackens!" 


JOHN   PAUL   JONES  257 

cried  bold  Captain  Jones.  "  This  cannot  last  forever, 
and  our  opportunity  will  soon  be  here." 

Sure  enough  —  the  wind  died  out  about  midnight 
of  April  22nd  —  and  the  Ranger  beat  up  towards  the 
town.  When  about  five  hundred  yards  from  the 
shore,  the  vessel  was  hove  to  —  two  boats  were  low- 
ered —  and  twenty-nine  seamen,  with  third  Lieuten- 
ant Wallingford,  Midshipmen  Arthur  Green  and 
Charles  Hill,  jumped  into  them.  With  Jones  in  com- 
mand they  hastened  toward  the  coast. 

The  surprise  was  complete.  Two  small  forts  lay 
at  the  mouth  of  the  harbor,  but,  as  the  seamen  scram- 
bled ashore,  they  were  precipitately  abandoned  by  the 
garrison  of  "  coast-guards."  Captain  Jones,  Midship- 
man Green,  and  six  men  rushed  shouting  upon  one 
of  these,  capturing  it  without  an  effort ;  the  other  was 
taken  by  Lieutenant  Wallingford  and  eight  sailors,  — 
while  four  were  left  behind  as  a  boat-guard.  A  few 
pistols  spattered,  a  few  muskets  rang;  but,  when  the 
stout  sea-dogs  reached  the  tidal  basin,  where  the  ship- 
ping lay,  the  townsfolk  were  thoroughly  aroused. 
Burning  cotton  was  thrown  on  board  of  the  ships 
lying  at  anchor,  but  only  one  took  fire.  It  was  full 
daylight,  and  the  insignificance  of  Jones'  force  became 
evident  to  the  townsfolk,  who  were  rallying  from  all 
directions. 

"  Retreat  to  the  ships,"  shouted  the  Yankee  Cap- 
tain, "  there  is  no  time  to  lose !  " 

The  landing  party  —  small  as  it  was  —  had  become 
separated  into  two  groups ;  one  commanded  by  Jones, 
the  other  by  Wallingford.     Thinking  that  Walling- 


258      FAMOUS   PRIVATEERSMEN 

ford's  party  was,  for  the  moment,  more  seriously  men- 
aced than  his  own,  Jones  attacked  and  dispersed  — 
with  his  dozen  men  —  a  force  of  about  one  hundred 
of  the  local  militia  who  were  endeavoring  to  retake 
the  lower  fort,  or  battery,  whose  guns  had  been  spiked 
by  the  Americans.  The  townsfolk  and  coast-guards 
had  joined  and  were  making  a  vigorous  assault  upon 
Wallingford.  But  shots  flew  thick  and  fast  from  the 
muskets  of  the  followers  of  the  daring  Paul  Jones  — 
as  they  retreated  to  their  own  boats.  The  whole  land- 
ing party  —  with  the  exception  of  one  man  —  finally 
leaped  safely  into  the  boat,  and  were  on  board  the 
Ranger  before  the  sun  was  an  hour  over  the  horizon. 

Jones  was  delighted. 

"  The  actual  results  of  this  affair,"  said  he,  "  are 
of  little  moment,  as  we  destroyed  but  one  ship.  The 
moral  effect  —  however  —  is  very  great,  as  it  has 
taught  the  English  that  the  fancied  security  of  their 
coasts  is  a  Myth." 

In  fact  this  little  raid  of  the  valiant  John  Paul, 
made  the  Government  take  expensive  measures  for 
the  defense  of  numerous  ports  hitherto  relying  for 
protection  upon  the  vigilance  and  supposed  omnipo- 
tence of  the  navy.  It  also  doubled  the  rates  of  marine 
insurance;  which  was  the  most  grievous  damage  of 
all. 

"  Now  to  attack  a  castle !  "  cried  Jones,  "  and  bag 
an  Earl,  too,  if  he  is  around !  " 

The  Ranger  was  headed  for  Solway  Firth  —  not 
more  than  three  hours'  sail  away  —  where,  upon  St. 
Mary's  Isle,  was  the  castle  of  the  Earl  of  Selkirk. 


JOHN   PAUL   JONES  259 

"  If  we  can  catch  the  noble  owner  of  this  keep,'* 
said  John  Paul,  "  we  will  hold  him  as  hostage  for  the 
better  treatment  of  American  prisoners  in  Eng- 
land." 

As  luck  would  have  it,  the  Earl  was  away  at  this 
particular  time,  and,  although  the  wild  sea-dogs  of 
the  Ranger  carried  off  several  pieces  of  silverware 
from  the  castle,  this  was  all  that  was  captured.  Lucky 
Earl!  But,  had  he  fallen  into  the  clutches  of  John 
Paul,  he  would  have  been  treated  with  the  greatest 
consideration,  for  the  Captain  of  the  Ranger  was  the 
most  chivalrous  of  conquerors. 

The  Ranger  stood  across  the  Irish  Channel  and  next 
day  ran  into  some  fisher  boats. 

"  Ah !  Ha !  "  laughed  one  of  the  sons  of  Ireland. 
"  The  Drake  —  the  guard-ship  at  Carrickfergus  —  is 
after  you,  and  she's  a  twenty-gun  sloop-of-war." 

John  Paul  smiled. 

"  To  lessen  trouble,"  said  he,  "  I'll  heave-to  off  the 
mouth  of  Belfast  Lough  and  wait  for  her  to  work  out. 
This  will  save  her  the  pains  of  coming  after  me." 

So  he  luffed  his  ship,  lay  to,  and  waited  for  the 
Drake  to  sail  on.  Her  white  sails  could  be  seen  more 
clearly  as  she  neared  the  adventurous  American.  A 
boat  was  sent  out  to  reconnoitre  —  but  —  as  it  ap- 
proached, it  was  surrounded  by  tenders  from  the 
Ranger;  a  midshipman  and  five  men  in  her,  were 
made  prisoners.  Tide  and  wind  were  both  against 
the  Drake;  she  came  on  slowly;  and,  at  an  hour 
before  sundown,  was  just  within  hail.  The  sea  was 
fairly  smooth,  the  wind  southerly  and  very  light. 


260      FAMOUS    PRIVATEERSMEN 

''  What  ship  is  that  ?  "  sounded  from  the  deck  of 
the  Drake. 

"  The  American  Continental  ship  Ranger/'  rang 
the  clear  reply.  ''  Lay  on !  We  are  waiting  for 
you!" 

Both  ships  bore  away  before  the  wind  and  neared 
each  other  to  within  striking  distance.  Boom!  a 
broadside  roared  from  the  side  of  the  Drake,  and  the 
fight  had  begun. 

Crash!  Crash!  Muskets  spoke  from  the  rigging  of 
the  Ranger,  where  several  seamen  had  climbed  in  the 
endeavor  to  pick  off  the  gunners  on  the  deck  of  the 
British  war-ship.  There  were  one  hundred  and  fifty- 
seven  men  upon  the  Drake;  Paul  Jones  had  one  hun- 
dred and  twenty-six.  The  Drake's  battery  was  six- 
teen nine-pounders  and  four  sixes.  Thus  —  you  see 
—  the  advantage  was  clearly  with  the  Britishers. 

Both  boats  swung  along  under  full  canvas,  pound- 
ing away  at  each  other  like  prize-fighters.  Spars  were 
shattered;  sails  ripped;  masts  splintered  in  the  hail 
of  iron.  And  —  as  the  fight  progressed  —  it  could 
be  plainly  seen  that  the  marksmanship  of  those  upon 
the  Drake  was  infinitely  less  accurate  than  that  of  the 
Americans. 

"  Every  shot  of  our  men  told,"  said  Jones  —  not 
long  afterwards.  "  They  gave  the  Drake  three  broad- 
sides for  two,  right  along,  at  that.  The  behavior  of 
my  crew  in  this  engagement  more  than  justifies  the 
representations  I  have  often  made,  of  what  American 
sailors  would  do,  if  given  a  chance  at  the  enemy  in 
his  own  waters.     We  have  seen  that  they  fight  with 


l-rom  •   ine  Army  and  Navy  of  the  United  States." 

"began  to  hull  the  'drake'  below  the  water-line.' 


JOHN   PAUL   JONES  261 

courage  on  our  own  coast  —  but  fought  here,  almost 
in  hail  of  the  enemy's  shore." 

As  the  two  ships  were  going  off  the  wind,  which 
was  light,  they  both  rolled  considerably,  and  together ; 
that  is,  when  the  Ranger  went  down  to  port,  the 
Drake  came  up  to  starboard.  The  gunners  upon  the 
quarter-deck  of  the  Ranger  timed  their  guns,  so  that 
they  were  fired  as  their  muzzles  went  down  and  the 
enemy's  side  arose.  By  this  practice  they  began  to 
hull  the  Drake  below  the  water-Hne. 

"  Sink  the  English !  Sink  the  English !  "  cried  the 
powder-blackened  fighters. 

But  Captain  Jones  thought  differently. 

"  Don't  sink  her !  "  he  yelled  to  gunner  Starbuck, 
above  the  din  of  battle.  "  I  want  to  take  her  alive, 
instead  of  destroying  her;  for  it  will  be  much  more 
to  our  advantage  if  we  carry  her  as  a  visible  prize  into 
a  French  port." 

"All  right,  Cap'n!"  shouted  his  men.  "We'll 
cripple  her  aloft !  " 

They  now  fired  as  the  muzzles  rose,  and,  so  terrific 
were  their  broadsides,  that  the  fore  and  main  topsail- 
yards  came  tumbling  across  the  starboard  quarter,  in 
a  tangle  of  ropes,  sails,  and  rigging. 

"  Rake  her !    Rake  her !  "  shouted  Jones  to  his  men. 

The  Ranger  luffed  and  crossed  the  stern  of  the 
Drake  with  the  purpose  of  spanking  a  full  broadside 
down  her  decks.  The  British  boat  was  badly  crippled 
and  had  lost  steering  way. 

But,  before  the  well-aimed  guns  belched  another 
destructive  volley  into  the  shattered  Englishman,  a 


262      FAMOUS   PRIVATEERSMEN 

white  flag  went  aloft,  and  a  voice  came :  *'  Hold  your 
fire.  We  surrender!"  The  Drake  was  a  prisoner- 
of-war. 

Thus  Paul  Jones  had  won  a  notable  victory,  and 
thus  he  had  proved  that  the  British  were  not  invinci- 
ble, and  could  be  defeated,  upon  the  sea,  by  their  own 
cousins,  as  readily  as  upon  the  land. 

When  the  Ranger  lay  in  the  harbor  of  Brest,  a  few 
days  later,  with  the  Drake  alongside,  boats  crowded 
about  in  order  to  view  the  vessel  which  had  captured 
another,  —  larger  than  herself.  And,  as  the  Ranger 
had  taken  three  merchant  ships  on  the  way  to  the 
coast  of  France,  the  black  eyes  of  the  natives  shone 
with  beady  lustre  as  they  gazed  upon  the  graceful  hull 
of  the  victorious  sloop-of-war  from  Portsmouth,  New 
Hampshire. 

"  See  Monsieur  Jones,"  said  they,  as  they  nudged 
each  other.  "  Voila !  Here  is  a  man  who  is  better 
than  our  own  sailors.  Look  at  this  American  sea- 
devil!" 

And  the  chest  of  John  Paul  Jones  swelled  with 
pride. 

Eager  and  active,  the  gallant  Commodore  was  most 
unhappy  during  the  next  few  months,  for  the  Ranger 
was  ordered  back  to  America  —  under  his  Lieutenant 
Simpson.  Twenty-seven  of  his  crew,  however,  elected 
to  remain  and  fight  with  him,  when  he  should  get  an- 
other command,  —  among  them  a  little  Narragansett 
Indian  called  Antony  Jeremiah. 

"  Me  like  to  see  big  gun  shoot,"  said  he.  "  Me 
like  to  walk  on  deck  of  enemy's  big  boat  when  you 


JOHN   PAUL   JONES  263 

take  it!  Byme-by  we  take  bigger  ship  than  Drake 
and  kill  heap  more  enemy !    Ugh !  Ugh !  " 

At  this  John  Paul  laughed. 

"  Antony  Jeremiah,"  said  he,  "  you  shall  witness 
one  big  fight  if  you  stay  with  John  Paul.  You  wait 
and  see !  " 

And  what  John  Paul  had  said  soon  came  to  pass. 

"  The  French,"  writes  the  doughty  warrior,  *'  have 
little  conception  of  an  expedition  such  as  I  propose; 
to  harry  the  coast  and  destroy  the  commerce  of  the 
enemy.  Their  idea  is  to  leave  all  of  that  to  privateers, 
of  which  I  have  already  been  offered  a  dozen  com- 
mands. Some  of  the  ships  they  fit  out  as  privateers 
are  really  respectable  frigates  in  size,  and  I  have  seen 
one,  called  the  Monsieur,  that  mounts  thirty-eight  or 
forty  guns.  But  I  do  not  wish  to  engage  in  priva- 
teering. My  object  is  not  that  of  private  gain,  but  to 
serve  the  public  in  a  way  that  may  reflect  credit  on 
our  infant  navy  and  give  prestige  to  our  country  over 
the  sea." 

Noble  sentiments  —  nobly  expressed ! 

In  spite  of  the  gloomy  outlook  he  at  last  secured 
a  vessel  from  the  King  himself,  called  the  Duras, 
which  he  re-christened  ''  Le  Bon  Homme  Richard  "  — 
"  The  Good  Richard "  —  the  name  assumed  by  Dr. 
Benjamin  Franklin  when  writing  his  famous  "  Al- 
manack," except  that  he  called  him  "  Poor  Richard." 
This  was  a  vv^ell-merited  compliment  to  the  great  and 
good  man,  who  was  then  Commissioner  from  the 
United  States  to  France,  and  a  firm  friend  to  the 
ardent  John  Paul.    The  vessel  had  forty  guns,  "  and," 


264      FAMOUS   PRIVATEERSMEN 

writes  the  Minister  of  Marine,  "  as  you  may  find  too 
much  difficulty  in  enlisting  a  sufficient  number  of 
Americans,  the  King  permits  you  to  levy  French  vol- 
unteers, until  you  obtain  a  full  crew." 

John  Paul  hastened  to  get  her  ready  for  a  cruise. 
"  I  mounted  twenty-eight  long  twelve-pounders  on  the 
gun-deck,"  he  says,  **  put  eight  of  the  long  nines  on 
the  quarter-deck,  and  discarded  the  six-pounders  of 
her  old  battery.  This  gave  her  a  battery  of  forty-two 
guns,  throwing  two  hundred  and  fifty-eight  pounds  of 
metal  in  a  single  broadside.  She  was  the  fair  equiva- 
lent of  a  thirty-six  gun  frigate." 

From  February  to  June  she  was  worked  over; 
refitted;  resparred.  On  June  19th,  1779,  the  gal- 
lant John  Paul  Jones  swung  out  into  the  English 
Channel;  he,  himself,  in  command  of  the  Good  Rich- 
ard, which  carried  a  crew  of  three  hundred  and 
seventy-five,  not  more  than  fifty  of  whom  were  Ameri- 
cans. Four  other  vessels  were  with  him :  the  Alli- 
ance, a  thirty-two  gun  frigate;  the  Pallas,  a  twenty- 
eight  gun  frigate ;  the  Vengeance,  a  twelve  gun  brig ; 
and  the  Cerf,  a  cutter. 

On  the  second  day  out  the  Alliance  fouled  the  Rich- 
ard, causing  so  much  damage  to  both,  that  the  squad- 
ron was  compelled  to  return  to  port  for  repairs,  which 
—  with  other  transactions  —  consumed  six  weeks. 
But  the  accident  was  a  lucky  one,  for  numerous  Amer- 
ican sailors,  who  were  in  English  prisons,  were  shortly 
exchanged  with  English  seamen  in  French  dungeons; 
and  thus  Paul  Jones  was  able  to  man  the  Good  Rich- 
ard with  one  hundred  and  fourteen  native  Americans, 


JOHN   PAUL  JONES  265 

who  were  anxious  to  have  a  crack  at  those  who  had 
captured  them  but  a  short  time  before. 

Finally,  with  refitted  ships  and  reorganized  crews, 
Paul  Jones  was  ready  to  sail  from  the  roadstead  of 
Isle  de  Groaix,  in  the  early  part  of  August,  1779, 
bound  upon  his  cruise  around  the  British  Islands. 
There  were  four  ships  in  this  squadron :  the  Good 
Richard;  the  Alliance,  under  Pierre  Landais  (a  de- 
praved and  dishonest  Frenchman)  ;  the  Pallas,  under 
Cottineau  (an  honest  Frenchman) ;  and  the  Ven- 
geance, a  sloop-of-war.  The  prevailing  winds 
were  light  and  baffling,  so  the  squadron  moved 
slowly. 

War  had  been  declared  between  France  and  Eng- 
land, and  thus  the  English  Channel  was  thronged  with 
privateers  from  both  countries.  The  Richard  and  a 
French  privateer,  in  company,  recaptured  a  large  ship 
belonging  to  Holland,  but  bound  from  Barcelona  to 
Dunkirk,  France,  which  had  been  taken  some  days 
before  by  an  English  vessel  off  Cape  Ortegal  and 
ordered  into  Falmouth,  England.  England  and  Hol- 
land were  still  at  peace,  at  this  time,  but  the  English 
claimed  the  right  to  intercept  and  send  into  their  own 
port  for  examination,  all  neutral  vessels  bound  to 
French  ports,  as  England  and  France  were  then  at 
war.  Commodore  Jones  took  the  English  prize-crew 
out  of  the  Dutch  ship,  as  prisoners  of  war,  and  then 
ordered  the  ship  into  I'Orient  in  charge  of  her  own 
crew,  but  under  the  command  of  one  of  his  midship- 
men, until  she  could  come  under  the  protection  of  a 
French  port. 


266      FAMOUS   PRIVATEERSMEN- 

"  Things  are  going  well  with  us !  "  cried  Captain 
Jones,  rubbing  his  hands  gleefully. 

He  soon  felt  much  happier.  For,  on  the  morning 
of  August  23rd,  when  in  the  vicinity  of  Cape  Clear, 
the  Richard  sent  three  boats,  and  afterwards  a  fourth, 
to  take  a  brig  that  was  becalmed  in  the  northwest 
quarter  —  just  out  of  gun-shot.  It  proved  to  be  the 
Fortune,  of  Bristol,  bound  from  Newfoundland 
for  her  home-port  with  whale-oil,  salt  fish,  and 
barrel  staves.  Manned  by  a  prize-crew  of  two 
warrant  officers  and  six  men,  she  was  sent  to 
Nantes. 

All  were  happy.  All  were  looking  forward  to  a 
good  fight.    It  was  to  come  to  them. 

The  little  fleet  of  war-dogs  sailed  northward,  and, 
on  September  ist,  about  ten  o'clock  in  the  morning, 
the  northwest  promontory  of  Scotland  was  sighted. 
At  the  same  instant,  two  large  ships  bore  in  sight  on 
the  same  quarter,  and  another  vessel  appeared  to  wind- 
ward. 

"  Bear  up !    Bear  up !  "  cried  Jones. 

The  Richard  held  over  toward  the  first  two  ships 
until  he  saw  that  it  was  the  Alliance  and  a  prize  she 
had  taken  about  daylight,  —  a  vessel  bound  for  Ja- 
maica, from  London. 

"  Now  chase  the  other  fellow ! "  he  cried,  turning 
the  wheel  with  his  own  hands,  and  soon  the  Good 
Richard  was  bounding  over  the  waves  in  hard  pur- 
suit of  the  second  sail.  Slowly  but  surely  she  was 
overhauled.  Heavily  armed,  she  did  not  surrender 
until  after  the  exchange  of  several  shots,  which  the 


JOHN   PAUL   JONES  267 

Richard  pumped  into  her,  after  running  up  close 
enough  to  show  her  broadside. 

A  boat  soon  carried  a  number  of  seamen  to  take 
possession  of  her,  and  she  proved  to  be  the  British 
privateer,  the  Union,  mounting  twenty-two  six-pound- 
ers, and  bound  northward  from  London  to  Quebec, 
in  Canada,  laden  with  a  cargo  of  naval  and  military 
stores  for  the  British  troops  and  flotillas  on  the  Lakes. 
The  Union  also  carried  a  valuable  mail,  including  dis- 
patches for  Sir  William  Howe,  in  New  York,  and 
Sir  Guy  Carleton,  in  Canada.  "  These  were  lost," 
writes  John  Paul  to  good  Doctor  Franklin,  at  Paris, 
for  the  Alliance  imprudently  showed  American  colors, 
though  English  colors  were  still  flying  on  the  Bon 
Homme  Richard;  "  the  enemy  thereby  being  induced 
to  throw  his  papers  of  importance  overboard  before 
we  could  take  possession  of  him."  The  prizes  were 
manned  from  the  Alliance  and  sent  (by  Landais)  into 
the  seaport  of  Bergen,  in  Norway. 

The  squadron  now  beat  down  the  east  coast  of 
Scotland,  and,  after  capturing  five  or  six  small  prizes, 
rounded-to  off  the  Firth  of  Forth. 

"  I  intend  to  attack  the  port  of  Leith !  "  cried  Jones, 
"  as  I  understand  that  it  is  defended  only  by  a  small 
guard-ship  of  twenty-two  guns,  and  an  old  fortification 
(old  Leith  Fort)  garrisoned  by  a  detachment  of 
Militia." 

The  wind  was  adverse,  blowing  off  shore,  with 
frequent  heavy  squalls,  but  about  noon  of  the  17th 
of  September,  the  Richard  and  the  Pallas  beat  up 
within   gun-shot  of  Leith  Fort   and   were  lowering 


268      FAMOUS   PRIVATEERSMEN 

away  their  tenders  in  order  to  land,  when  a  heavy- 
Northwest  gale  sprang  up,  compelling  them  to  hoist 
their  boats,  and  put  to  sea.  The  gale  lasted  about 
twenty-four  hours,  but,  on  the  morning  of  the  19th, 
the  wind  took  another  turn,  the  sea  grew  calm,  and 
Jones  proposed  to  renew  the  attack  upon  Leith.  The 
Commander  of  the  Pallas  made  strong  objection  to 
this.  "  I  do  not  believe  that  we  should  stay  here," 
cried  he.  "  If  we  persist  in  the  attempt  to  remain 
on  this  station  three  days  longer,  we  shall  have  a 
squadron  of  heavy  frigates,  if  not  a  ship  of  line,  to 
deal  with.  Convinced  of  this,  I  offer  it  as  my  judg- 
ment that  we  had  better  work  along  the  shore  to-day 
and  to-morrow,  as  far  as  Spurn  Head,  and  then,  if 
we  do  not  fall  in  with  the  Baltic  merchant  fleet,  stand 
off  the  coast  and  make  the  best  of  our  way  to  Dun- 
kirk." 

Commodore  Jones  spent  a  few  moments  in  reflec- 
tion. "  You  are  probably  right,  Cottineau,"  said  he. 
"  I  only  wish  that  another  man  like  you  were  in  com- 
mand of  the  Alliance.  However,  we  cannot  help 
what  is  and  must  make  the  best  of  it.  Go  aboard  your 
ship  and  make  sail  to  the  south-southwest.  Speak  the 
Vengeance  as  you  run  down,  and  tell  Ricot  —  her 
commander  —  to  rendezvous  off  Spurn  Head.  I  will 
bring  up  the  rear  with  this  ship.  We  may  fall  in 
with  the  Baltic  fleet  between  here  and  Scarboro',  which 
is  usually  their  first  English  port  of  destination  at  this 
time  of  the  year.  Should  you  happen  to  sight  the 
Alliance,  inform  Captain  Landais  of  our  destination, 
but  do  not  communicate  it  to  him  as  an  order,  be- 


JOHN   PAUL   JONES  269 

cause  that  would  be  likely  to  eixpose  you  only  to 
insult." 

The  two  ships  turned  South,  and  the  next  three 
days  were  without  events  of  importance.  At  length 
they  neared  the  harbor  of  Scarboro',  and,  as  they  hov- 
ered about  twelve  miles  off  the  land,  they  saw  some 
vessels  making  for  the  shore,  and  protecting  a  fleet 
of  merchantmen. 

"  They're  a  heavy  man-of-war  —  either  a  fifty-gun 
frigate,  or  a  fifty-four  —  with  a  large  ship-of-war  in 
company,"  cried  one  of  his  Lieutenants,  who  had  been 
watching  them  through  a  glass.  "  The  Captain  of 
the  larger  one  has  cleverly  manceuvered  to  protect  his 
merchant  ship." 

Commodore  Jones  seemed  to  be  much  pleased. 

"  At  last  we'll  have  a  little  fight,"  cried  he.  "  Bear 
hard  for  the  land,  and  get  between  the  larger  vessel 
and  the  shore!  " 

Captain  Cottineau  was  signalled  to  and  requested  to 
go  after  the  sloop-of-war.  About  sundown  the  Rich- 
ard succeeded  in  weathering  the  large  frigate  and 
manoeuvered  between  her  and  the  land. 

The  ships  neared  each  other  very  gradually,  for  the 
breeze  was  slight.  They  were  on  opposite  tacks  and 
Commodore  Jones  readily  made  out  the  force  and  rate 
of  his  antagonist.  By  the  light  of  the  dying  day  —  for 
it  was  about  seven  p.  m.  —  he  saw  that  she  was  a 
new  forty- four ;  a  perfect  beauty.  It  was  the  Serapis 
—  Captain  Richard  Pearson  commanding  —  but  six 
months  off  the  stocks  and  on  her  first  cruise  as  a 
convoy  to  the  Baltic  fleet  of  merchantmen :  consisting 


270      i^AMOUS   PRIVATEERSMEN 

of  about  forty  vessels  laden  with  timber  and  other 
naval  stores  for  the  use  of  the  British  dockyards. 
Jones  had  hoped  to  have  an  opportunity  to  attack  this 
flotilla,  but  his  plans  had  been  frustrated  by  the  vig- 
ilance and  skill  of  the  commander  of  the  men-of-war 
in  convoy. 

Even  now  Landais  might  have  got  among  the  mer- 
chantmen in  the  fast-sailing  Alliance,  while  Jones  and 
Cottineau  occupied  the  attention  of  the  two  men-of- 
war;  but  the  French  officer  did  not  have  sufficient 
courage  to  tackle  them,  and  kept  well  beyond  striking 
distance. 

The  Captain  of  the  Serapis  stood  upon  the  deck, 
intently  gazing  at  the  oncoming  vessel. 

"  Gad  Zooks !  "  he  uttered.  ''  From  the  size  of  her 
spars  and  her  height  out  of  water  I  take  her  to  be 
a  French  fifty  of  the  time  of  the  last  war.  It's  too 
dark  for  me  to  see  whether  she  has  any  lower  ports 
or  not."  He  raised  his  night  glasses  to  his  eyes,  and, 
in  the  light  of  the  full  moon  which  was  now  flooding 
the  sea  with  a  silvery  haze,  saw  that  his  opponent  was 
intent  upon  a  fight. 

"  It  is  probably  Paul  Jones,"  said  he,  lowering  the 
glasses.  "If  so  —  there's  tight  work  ahead.  What 
ship  is  that?  "  he  cried  out  in  loud  tones. 

No  answer  came  from  the  dark  hull  of  the  Good 
Richard,  but,  as  she  swung  nearer  upon  the  rolling 
waves,  suddenly  a  flash,  a  roar,  and  a  sheet  of  flame 
belched  from  her  side.    The  battle  was  on ! 

It  was  a  struggle  which  has  been  talked  of  for 
years.     It  was  a  battle  about  which  the  world  never 


JOHN   PAUL   JONES  271 

seems  to  tire  of  reading.  It  was  the  battle  which  has 
made  the  name  of  John  Paul  Jones  nautically  im- 
mortal. 

The  two  warriors  of  the  deep  were  on  the  same 
tack,  headed  northwest,  driven  by  a  slight  wind  which 
veered  to  the  westward.  The  sea  was  smooth,  the 
sky  was  clear,  the  full  moon  was  rising  —  the  con- 
ditions for  a  night  struggle  were  ideal. 

Crash!    Crash!    Crash! 

Broadside  after  broadside  rolled  and  shrieked  from 
ship  to  ship,  as  the  air  was  filled  with  flying  bits  of 
iron. 

Crash!    Crash!    Crash! 

Travelling  very  slowly,  for  the  wind  was  little  more 
than  sufficient  to  give  them  steering-way  in  the  tide, 
the  two  antagonists  drifted  along  for  twenty  minutes, 
at  cable  length  (600  to  900  feet  —  about  the  distance 
of  the  220  yard  dash).  But  suddenly  —  Boom!  an 
explosion  sounded  in  the  gun-room  of  the  Good  Rich- 
ard. Two  of  her  eighteen-pounders  had  blown  up 
back  of  the  trunnions;  many  of  the  crew  lay  dead 
and  dying,  the  after  part  of  the  main  gun-deck  was 
shattered  like  a  reed :  Senior  Midshipman  and  Acting 
Lieutenant  John  Mayrant  —  who  had  command  of 
this  battery  —  was  severely  wounded  in  the  head  by 
a  fragment  of  one  of  the  exploded  shells,  and  was 
scorched  by  the  blast  of  flame. 

"  Abandon  your  guns ! ''  shouted  First  Lieutenant 
Dale,  "  and  report  with  your  remaining  men  to  the 
main-deck  battery ! " 

"  All  right !  "  answered  Mayrant,  as  he  bound  a 


272      FAMOUS   PRIVATEERSMEN 

white  kerchief  around  his  bleeding  head.  "  I'll  be 
with  you  just  as  soon  as  I  give  them  one  more  shot." 

This  he  endeavored  to  do,  but  not  a  gun  could  be 
touched  off.  "  The  old  sixteen-pounders  that  formed 
the  battery  of  the  lower  gun-deck,  did  no  service 
whatever,  except  firing  eight  shots  in  all,"  writes  John 
Paul  Jones.  "  Two  out  of  three  of  them  burst  at  the 
first  fire,  killing  almost  all  the  men  who  were  sta- 
tioned to  manage  them." 

The  gunnery  of  the  Good  Richard  was  excellent. 
Though  her  battery  was  one-third  lighter  than  that 
of  the  Serapis;  though  her  gun-crews  were  composed 
—  to  a  great  extent  —  of  French  volunteers,  who  had 
never  been  at  sea  before  —  in  quickness  and  rapidity 
of  fire,  the  shells  from  the  American  fell  just  as  accu- 
rately as  did  those  from  the  Britisher;  pointed  and 
gauged  by  regular,  trained  English  men-of-war  sea- 
men. The  roar  of  belching  cannon  was  deafening. 
The  superior  weight  and  energy  of  the  British  shot 
began  to  tell  decisively  against  the  sputtering  twelve- 
pounders  of  the  Richard,  in  spite  of  the  fact  that  they 
were  being  served  with  quickness  and  precision.  As 
the  two  battling  sea-monsters  drifted  slowly  along,  a 
pall  of  sulphurous  smoke  hung  over  their  black  hulls, 
like  a  sheet  of  escaping  steam.  They  were  drawing 
nearer  and  nearer  to  each  other. 

It  was  now  about  a  quarter  to  eight.  Wounded 
and  dying  littered  the  decks  of  both  Britisher  and 
American,  but  the  fight  was  to  the  death. 

"  Lufif !  Luff!  "  cried  Captain  Pearson,  as  the  Rich- 
ard began  to  forge  near  him,    *'  LufT!  Lufif!   and  let 


JOHN   PAUL   JONES  273 

fly  with  all  guns  at  the  water-line.  Sink  the  Yankee 
Pirate!" 

But  Paul  Jones  was  intent  upon  grappling  with 
his  adversary.  Quickly  jerking  the  tiller  to  one  side, 
he  shoved  the  Richard  into  the  wind  and  endeavored 
to  run  her  —  bows  on  —  into  the  side  of  his  opponent. 
The  Serapis  paid  off,  her  stern  swung  to,  and,  before 
she  could  gather  way,  the  Richard's  jib-boom  shot 
over  her  larboard  quarter  and  into  the  mizzen  rigging. 

Jones  was  delighted. 

"  Throw  out  the  grappling  hooks !  "  cried  he,  in 
shrill  tones.  "  Hold  tight  to  the  Britisher  and  be 
prepared  to  board!  " 

In  an  instant,  many  clawing  irons  spun  out  into 
the  mizzen  stays  of  the  Serapis;  but,  though  they 
caught,  the  lines  holding  them  soon  parted.  The 
Serapis  fell  off  and  the  Richard  lurched  ahead. 
Neither  had  been  able  to  bring  her  broadsides  to  bear. 

"  We  can't  beat  her  by  broadsiding,"  cried  Jones. 
"  We've  got  to  board !  " 

Crash!    Crash!    Crash! 

Again  the  cannon  made  the  splinters  fly.  Again 
the  two  gamecocks  spat  at  each  other  like  angry  cats, 
but,  the  fire  from  the  Richard  was  far  weaker  than 
before. 

Commodore  Jones  walked  hastily  to  the  gun-deck. 

"  Dick,"  said  he  to  Lieutenant  Dale,  "  this  fellow's 
metal  is  too  heavy  for  us  at  this  business.  He  is  ham- 
mering us  all  to  pieces.  We  must  close  with  him! 
We  must  get  hold  of  him!  Be  prepared  at  any  mo- 
ment to  abandon  this  place  and  bring  what  men  you 


274      FAMOUS   PRIVATEERSMEN 

have  left  on  the  spar-deck  —  and  give  them  the  small 
arms  for  boarding  when  you  come  up." 

Lieutenant  Dale  saluted. 

"  All  right !  "  cried  he.  '[  I'll  be  with  you  in  a  jiffy, 
Commodore." 

As  Jones  walked  hastily  to  the  main  deck  —  the 
Lieutenant  ran  to  the  store-room  and  dealt  out  cut- 
lasses, pistols  and  pikes,  to  the  eager  men.  The  deck 
was  red  with  blood. 

The  worst  carnage  of  all  was  at  "  number  two  "  gun 
of  the  forward,  starboard  division.  From  the  first 
broadside  until  the  quarter-deck  was  abandoned,  nine- 
teen different  men  were  on  this  gun,  and,  at  this  time, 
only  one  of  the  original  crew  remained.  It  was  the 
little  Indian,  Antony  Jeremiah ;  or,  as  his  mates  called 
him,  "  Red  Cherry." 

"  Let  me  join  you,"  he  cried,  as  he  saw  Mayrant's 
boarding  party.  Seizing  a  cutlass  and  dirk,  he  stood 
beside  the  cluster  of  men,  eager  and  keen  to  have  a 
chance  at  the  enemy.  A  soul  of  fire  was  that  of  the 
little  savage  —  and  now  he  had  a  splendid  opportu- 
nity to  indulge  in  the  natural  blood-thirst  of  his  race, 
for  an  Indian  loves  a  good  fight,  particularly  when 
he  is  upon  the  winning  side. 

The  vessels  swung  on  slowly  —  the  fire  from  the 
Serapis  still  strong  and  accurate;  the  sputtering  vol- 
leys from  the  Richard  growing  weaker  and  weaker. 
Only  three  of  the  nine-pounders  on  the  starboard 
quarter-deck  were  serviceable;  the  entire  gun-deck 
battery  was  silent  and  abandoned. 

"  We  have  him,"  cheerfully  cried  Captain  Pearson 


JOHN   PAUL   JONES  275 

to  one  of  his  aides.  "  But,  hello  "  —  he  continued, 
''what  sail  is  that?" 

As  he  spoke  the  Alliance  came  bounding  across  the 
waves,  headed  for  the  two  combatants,  and  looking 
as  if  she  were  to  speedily  close  the  struggle. 

''  The  fight  is  at  an  end,"  said  Jones,  jubilantly. 

Imagine  his  astonishment,  chagrin,  and  mortifica- 
tion! Instead  of  pounding  the  English  vessel,  the 
French  ally  discharged  a  broadside  full  into  the  stern 
of  the  Richard,  ran  off  to  the  northward,  close  hauled, 
and  soon  was  beyond  gunshot 

"  Coward !  "  shouted  John  Paul,  shaking  his  fist  at 
the  retreating  ally.  '*  I'll  get  even  with  you  for  this 
if  it  takes  me  twenty  years !  " 

No  wonder  he  was  angered,  for,  with  his  main  bat- 
tery completely  silenced,  his  ship  beginning  to  sink, 
nearly  half  his  crew  disabled,  his  wheel  shot  away, 
and  his  consort  firing  into  him,  there  remained  but 
one  chance  of  victory  for  John  Paul  Jones :  to  foul 
tde  enemy  and  board  her. 

Luckily  a  spare  tiller  had  been  fitted  to  the  rudder 
stem  of  the  Richard  below  the  main  tiller — before 
leaving  port  —  because  of  the  fear  that  the  wheel 
would  be  disabled.  The  foresight  of  the  Commodore 
had  effected  this ;  and  now  —  by  means  of  this  extra 
steering-gear  —  the  battered  warrior-ship  was  enabled 
to  make  one,  last,  desperate  lunge  for  victory.  It 
was  touch  and  go  with  John  Paul  Jones. 

"  I  could  distinctly  hear  his  voice  amid  the  crashing 
of  musketry,"  says  a  seaman.  "  He  was  cheering  on 
th«  French  marines  in  their  own  tongue,  uttering  such 


276      FAMOUS   PRIVATEERSMEN 

imprecations  upon  the  enemy  as  I  have  never  before 
or  since  heard  in  French,  or  any  other  language.  He 
exhorted  them  to  take  good  aim,  pointed  out  the  ob- 
ject of  their  fire,  and  frequently  took  their  loaded 
muskets  from  their  hands  in  order  to  shoot  them  him- 
self. In  fact,  towards  the  very  last,  he  had  about  him 
a  group  of  half  a  dozen  marines  who  did  nothing  but 
load  their  firelocks  and  hand  them  to  the  Commodore ; 
who  fired  them  from  his  own  shoulder,  standing  on 
the  quarter-deck  rail  by  the  main  topmast  backstay." 

Luck  now  came  to  the  disabled  Richard.  A  fortu- 
nate pufif  of  wind  struck  and  filled  her  sails,  shooting 
her  alongside  of  the  growling  Serapis,  and  to  wind- 
ward. The  canvas  of  the  Britisher  flapped  uselessly 
against  her  spars.  She  was  blanketed  and  lost  steer- 
ing-way. In  a  moment  the  jib-boom  of  the  English 
vessel  ran  over  the  poopy-deck  of  the  American  ship. 
It  was  seized,  grappled  by  a  turn  of  small  hawsers, 
and  made  fast  to  the  mizzen-mast. 

"  She's  ours !  "  cried  John  Paul  Jones.  "  Seize  that 
anchor  and  splice  it  down  hard !  " 

As  he  spoke,  the  fluke  of  the  starboard  anchor  of 
the  Serapis  hooked  in  the  mizzen  chains.  It  was 
lashed  fast,  and  the  Richard  had  been  saved. 

Rattle!  Rattle!  Crash!  sounded  the  muskets  of 
the  French  marines.  The  English  tried  to  cut  their 
anchor  chains  and  get  free,  but  all  who  attempted  to 
sever  these  hawsers  were  struck  dead  by  the  accurate 
balls  from  the  marksmen  on  the  poop-deck  and  round- 
house of  the  Richard. 

"  I  demand  your  surrender !  "  shouted  Pearson. 


From  an  old  print. 

'■  THEY     SWARMED    INTO    THE    FORECASTLE    AMIDST    FIERCE    CHEERS." 


JOHN   PAUL   JONES  277 

"Surrender?"  cried  John  Paul  Jones.  "Why,  I 
am  just  beginning  to  fight!  " 

Then  he  turned  to  John  Mayrant,  who  stood  ready 
to  rush  across  the  hammock-nettings  into  the  waist 
of  the  enemy's  ship.  Twenty-seven  sailors  were 
near-by,  each  with  a  cutlass  and  two  ship's  pistols. 

"  Board  'em !  "  he  cried. 

Over  the  rail  went  the  seamen  —  monkey-wise  — 
over  the  rail,  John  Mayrant  leading  with  a  dirk  in 
his  teeth,  like  a  Bermuda  pirate.  They  swarmed  into 
the  forecastle  amidst  fierce  cheers,  the  rattle  of  mus- 
ketry, and  the  hiss  of  flames.  Just  at  the  moment 
that  John  Mayrant's  feet  struck  the  enemy's  deck,  a 
sailor  thrust  a  boarding-pike  through  the  fleshy  part 
of  his  right  thigh.  Crack!  a  pistol  spat  at  him,  and 
he  fell  prostrate. 

"  Remember  Portsea  jail !  Remember  Portsea 
jail !  "  cried  the  dauntless  raider,  rushing  down  into 
the  forecastle  with  his  wild,  yelping  sailors.  Pearson 
stood  there ;   crest-fallen  —  abashed. 

Seizing  the  ensign-halyards  of  the  Serapis,  as  the 
raging  torrent  of  seamen  rolled  towards  him,  the 
brave  English  sea-captain  hauled  the  flag  of  his  ship 
to  the  deck. 

The  Richard  had  won ! 

"  He  has  struck;  stop  firing!  Come  on  board  and 
take  possession !  "  yelled  Mayrant,  running  to  the  rail. 

Lieutenant  Dale  heard  him,  and,  swinging  himself 
on  the  side  of  the  Serapis,  made  his  way  to  the  quar- 
ter-deck, where  Captain  Pearson  was  standing.  "  I 
have  the  honor,  sir,  to  be  the  first  Lieutenant  of  the 


278      FAMOUS   PRIVATEEESMEN 

vessel  alongside,"  said  he  saluting.  "  It  is  the  Ameri- 
can Continental  ship  Bon  Homme  Richard,  under 
command  of  Commodore  Paul  Jones.  What  vessel  is 
this?" 

"  His  Britannic  Majesty's  late  man-of-war  the 
Serapis,  sir,"  was  the  sad  response,  "  and  I  am  Cap- 
tain Richard  Pearson." 

"  Pardon  me,  sir,"  said  the  American  officer,  "  in 
the  haste  of  the  moment  I  forgot  to  inform  you  that 
my  name  is  Richard  Dale  and  I  must  request  you  to 
pass  on  board  the  vessel  alongside." 

Pearson  nodded  dejectedly. 

As  he  did  so,  the  first  Lieutenant  of  the  Serapis 
came  up  from  below,  and,  looking  at  Captain  Pearson, 
asked, 

"  Has  the  enemy  struck,  sir?  " 

"  No,  sir !    /  have  struck !  "  was  the  sad  reply. 

"  Then,  I  will  go  below  and  order  our  men  to  cease 
firing,"  continued  the  English  Lieutenant. 

But  Lieutenant  Dale  interrupted. 

"  Pardon  me,  sir,"  said  he,  "  I  will  attend  to  that ; 
and,  as  for  yourself,  please  accompany  Captain  Pear- 
son on  board  the  ship  alongside." 

With  reluctant  steps  the  two  officers  clambered 
aboard  the  battered  Good  Richard,  where  Commodore 
Jones  received  them  with  much  courtesy. 

Bowing  low.  Captain  Pearson  offered  him  his 
sword.    His  first  Lieutenant  did  likewise. 

"  Captain  Pearson,"  said  the  victorious  John  Paul, 
"  you  have  fought  heroically.  You  have  worn  this 
weapon  to  your  own  credit  and  to  the  honor  of  your 


JOHN   PAUL   JONES  279 

service.  I  hope  that  your  sovereign  will  suitably 
reward  you." 

The  British  commander  was  the  image  of  chagrin 
and  despair.  He  bowed  again,  and  then  walked  slowly 
into  the  cabin,  followed  by  his  crest-fallen  Lieuten- 
ant. 

It  was  nearly  midnight.  The  full  moon  above  — 
in  a  cloudless  sky  —  made  it  almost  as  light  as  day. 
Seven  feet  of  water  were  in  the  hold  of  the  Richard; 
she  had  sunk  so  much  that  many  shot-holes  were 
below  the  water-line  and  could  not  be  plugged. 
Nearly  sixty  of  her  crew  lay  dead  upon  her  decks; 
more  than  a  hundred  and  twenty  were  desperately 
wounded.  Every  twelve-pounder  of  the  starboard 
broadside  was  either  dismounted,  or  disabled.  The 
starboard  side,  which  had  been  opposite  the  Serapis's 
eighteen-pounders,  was  driven  so  far  in,  that,  but  for 
a  few  frames  and  stanchions  which  remained,  the 
whole  gun-deck  would  have  fallen  through.  She  was 
afire,  and  the  flames  licked  upward  with  an  eager 
hiss. 

''Take  the  wounded  aboard  the  Serapis!"  com- 
manded Captain  Jones.  "  We  must  desert  our  good 
ship!  " 

In  an  hour's  time  all  were  upon  the  deck  of  the 
vanquished  Britisher.  No  one  was  left  on  the  Richard 
but  the  dead.  The  torn  and  tattered  flag  was  still 
flying  from  the  gaff,  and,  as  the  battered  sea-warrior 
gradually  settled  in  the  long  swell,  the  unconquered 
ensign  fluttered  defiantly  in  the  slight  breeze.  At 
length  the  Bon  Homme  Richard  plunged  downward 


280      FAMOUS    PRIVATEERSMEN 

by  the  head;  her  taffrail  rose  momentarily  on  high, 
and,  with  a  hoarse  roar  of  eddying  bubbles  and  suck- 
ing air,  the  conqueror  disappeared  from  view.  To 
her  immortal  dead  was  bequeathed  the  flag  which 
they  had  so  desperately  defended. 

So  ended  the  great  battle.  Thus  Paul  Jones  had 
made  his  name  immortal.  And  by  it  he  was  to  be 
known  for  all  time. 

This  was  not  the  end  of  his  career,  by  any  means. 
He  never  again  fought  for  the  infant  Republic  of  the 
United  States.  But  he  became  an  Admiral  in  the 
Russian  Navy:  battled  valorously  for  the  great  Em- 
press Catherine  against  the  Turks,  and  died  in  Paris, 
July  1 8th,  1792. 

Buried  at  the  French  capital,  his  body  was  disin- 
terred in  the  year  1905,  and  brought  to  the  United 
States,  to  be  entombed  with  military  honors,  at  An- 
napolis, Maryland. 

Paul  Jones  loved  brave  men.  The  braver  they  were 
the  more  he  loved  them.  When  he  went  ashore  and 
happened  to  meet  his  old  sailors  —  every  one  of  whom 
he  knew  and  called  by  his  first  name  —  they  seldom 
failed  to  strip  his  pockets  of  the  last  shilling.  He 
was  generous  to  a  fault  and  faithful  to  his  friends. 
His  time,  his  purse,  his  influence  were  always  at  the 
call  of  those  who  had  served  under  him.  A  typical 
sea-dog :  a  brave  fighter,  — 

Then,  why  not  give  three  times  three  for  John  Paul 
Jones  ? 

Are  you  ready  ? 


JOHN   PAUL   JONES  281 

THE    ESCAPE 

*Ti8  of  a  gallant,  Yankee  ship  that  flew  the  Stripes  and  Stars, 
And  the  whistling  wind  from  the  west-nor'-west  blew  through 

her  pitch-pine  spars: 
With  her  starboard  tacks  aboard,  my  Boys,  she  hung  upon  the 

gale; 
On  the  Autumn  night,  that  we  passed  the  light,  on  the  old  Head 

of  Kinsale. 

It  was  a  clear  and  cloudless  eve,  and  the  wind  blew  steady  and 

strong, 
As  gayly,  o'er  the  sparkling  deep,  our  good  ship  bowled  along; 
With   the   foaming  seas  beneath  her  bow,   the  fiery  waves  she 

spread, 
And,  bending  low  her  bosom  of  snow,  she  buried  her  lee  cat-head. 

There  was  no  talk  of  short'ning  sail,  by  him  who  walked  the  poop, 

And,  under  the  press  of  her  pounding  jib,  the  boom  bent  like  a 
hoop! 

And  the  groaning,  moaning  water-ways,  told  the  strain  that  held 
the  tack. 

But,  he  only  laughed,  as  he  glanced  aloft,  at  the  white  and  sil- 
very track. 

The  mid-tide  met  in  the  Channel  waves  that  flow  from  shore 

to  shore, 
And  the  mist  hung  heavy  upon  the  land,  from  Featherstone  to 

Dunmore, 
And  that  sterling  light  in  Tusker  Rock,  where  the  old  bell  tolls 

each  hour, 
And  the  beacon  light,  that  shone  so  bright,  was  quenched  on 

Waterford  tower. 

What  looms  upon  our  starboard  bow?     What  hangs  upon  the 

breeze  ? 
*Tis  time  that  our  good  ship  hauled  her  wind,  abreast  the  old 

Saltees, 
For,  by  her  pond'rous  press  of  sail,  and  by  her  consorts  four. 
We  saw  that  our  morning  visitor,  was  a  British  Man-of-War, 


282      FAMOUS   PEIVATEERSMEN 


Up  spoke   our  noble   Captain  —  then  —  as   a   shot  ahead  of   us 

passed,  — 
"  Haul   snug   your   flowing   courses !      Lay   your   topsail   to   the 

mast !  " 
Those  Englishmen  gave  three  loud  cheers,  from  the  deck  of  their 

covered  ark, 
And,  we  answered  back  by  a  solid  broad-side,  from  the  side  of 

our  patriot  barque. 

"Out  booms!     Out  booms!*'  our  skipper  cried,  "Out  booms! 
and  give  her  sheet!  " 

And  the  swiftest  keel  that  e'er  was  launched,  shot  ahead  of  the 
British  fleet, 

'Midst  a  thundering  shower  of  shot,  —  and  with  stern-sails  hoist- 
ing away, 

Down  the  North  Race  Paul  Jones  did  steer,  just  at  the  break  of 
day. 

—  Old  Ballad. 


CAPTAIN   SILAS   TALBOT 

STAUNCH  PRIVATEERSMAN   OF 

NEW  ENGLAND 

(1751-1813) 


If   you   want   ter   learn   how   ter   fight,    why   jest   fight." 

—  Dock-end  Philosophy. 


CAPTAIN    SILAS    TALBOT 

STAUNCH    PRIVATEERSMAN    OE 

NEW    ENGLAND 

(1751  - 1813) 

"  Talk  about  your  clipper  ships,  chipper  ships,  ripper  ships. 
Talk  about  your  barquentines,  with  all  their  spars  so  fancy, 
I'll  just  take  a  sloop-o'-war  with  Talbot,  with  Talbot, 
An'  whip  'em  all  into  'er  chip,  an'  just  to  suit  my  fancy. 

"  So,  heave  away  for  Talbot,  for  Talbot,  for  Talbot, 
So,  heave  away  for  Talbot,  an'  let  th'  Capting  steer. 
For,  he's  the  boy  to  smack  them,  to  crack  them,  to  whack  them. 
For  he's  th'  boy  to  ship  with,  if  you  want  to  privateer." 

—  Ballads  of  Rhode  Island. —  17^2. 

A  TRADING  vessel,  laden  with  wheat,  from  Car- 
digan in  Wales,  was  lying  to  in  the  English 
Channel.  Nearby  rolled  a  long-bodied  Ameri- 
can Privateer,  while  a  boat  neared  the  trader,  in  the 
stern  of  which  sat  a  staunch,  weather-beaten  officer  in 
a  faded  pea-jacket.  It  was  the  year  18 13  and  war  was 
on  between  England  and  the  United  States. 

When  the  blustering  captain  entered  the  cabin  to 
survey  his  prize,  he  spied  a  small  box  with  a  hole  in  the 
top,  on  which  was  inscribed  the  words,  "  Missionary 
Box."    He  drew  back,  astonished. 

"  Pray,  my  bold  seaman/*  said  he,  turning  to  the 
Welsh  captain,  "what  is  this?" 

286 


286      FAMOUS   PRIVATEERSMEN 

**  Oh,"  replied  the  honest,  old  sailor,  heaving  a  sigh, 
"  'tis  all  over  now." 

"  What?  "  asked  the  American  privateersman. 

"  Why,  the  truth  is,"  said  the  Welshman,  *'  that  I 
and  my  poor  fellows  have  been  accustomed,  every  Mon- 
day morning,  to  drop  a  penny  each  into  that  box  for  the 
purpose  of  sending  out  missionaries  to  preach  the 
Gospel  to  the  heathen ;  but  it's  all  over  now." 

The  American  seemed  to  be  much  abashed. 

"  Indeed,"  said  he,  "  that  is  very  good  of  you." 
And,  pausing  a  few  moments,  he  looked  abstractedly 
into  the  air,  humming  a  tune  beneath  his  breath. 

"  Captain,"  said  he,  at  length,  "  I'll  not  hurt  a  hair 
of  your  head,  nor  touch  your  vessel." 

So  saying,  he  turned  on  his  heel,  took  to  his  boat, 
and  left  the  Welshman  to  pursue  its  even  course.  And 
—  as  the  privateer  filled  away  to  starboard  —  a  voice 
came  from  the  deck  of  the  helpless  merchantman, 

"  God  bless  Captain  Silas  Talbot  and  his  crew !  " 

But  we  do  not  know  what  the  owners  of  the  pri- 
vateer said  to  the  humane  skipper  about  this  little 
affair  when  he  returned  to  New  York.  They  might 
have  uttered  hard  words  about  a  Welshman  who  scored 
upon  him  by  means  of  a  pious  fraud.  At  any  rate 
Silas  Talbot  had  done  a  good  deed. 

This  valorous  privateer  was  born  at  Dighton,  Mas- 
sachusetts, on  the  Sakonet  River  about  the  year  1752; 
beg-inning  his  career  at  sea  as  a  cabin-boy.  At  twenty- 
four  he  was  a  captain  in  the  United  States  army  and 
fought  in  the  Revolutionary  war,  for  a  time,  on  land. 
But  —  by  reason  of  his  nautical  training  —  he  was 


CAPTAIN   SILAS   TALBOT        287 

placed  in  command  of  a  fireship  at  New  York,  and  was 
soon  promoted  to  be  Major  —  but  still  with  duties 
upon  the  water  and  not  the  shore.  While  here,  a 
soldier  came  to  him,  one  day,  with  his  eyes  alight  in 
excitement. 

*'  Major,"  said  he,  "  there's  a  chance  for  a  splendid 
little  enterprise.  Just  off  the  coast  of  Rhode  Island, 
near  Newport,  lies  a  British  vessel,  moored  to  a  kedge. 
She  mounts  fifteen  guns  and  around  her  is  stretched  a 
stout  netting  to  keep  off  a  party  of  boarders.  But  we 
can  cut  it  and  get  through,  I'll  warrant.  And  the  game 
is  worth  the  candle." 

Young  Talbot  was  delighted  at  the  thought  of  a 
little  expedition. 

"  I'll  tell  you  how  we'll  cut  through,"  said  he. 
"  We'll  fix  a  small  anchor  at  the  bowsprit  of  our  sloop. 
Then,  we'll  ram  her  into  the  netting  at  night,  and  —  if 
our  vessel  can  punch  hard  enough  —  we'll  have  forty 
Americans  upon  the  deck  before  you  can  say  'Jack 
Robinson.'  " 

The  soldier  laughed. 

"  Major  Talbot,"  said  he,  "  you  are  a  true  fighting 
man.  I'll  have  a  crew  for  you  within  twenty-four 
hours  and  we'll  take  the  good  sloop  Jasamine,  lying  off 
of  Hell  Gate.  Ahoy  for  the  capture  of  the  English- 
man!" 

In  two  days'  time,  all  was  ready  for  the  expedition. 
The  sloop  Jasamine  slowly  drifted  into  the  harbor  of 
New  York,  an  anchor  spliced  to  her  bowsprit,  a  crew 
of  sturdy  adventurers  aboard;  and,  filling  away  in  a 
stout  sou'wester,  rolled  down  the  coast  in  the  direction 


288      FAMOUS   PEIVATEERSMEN 

of  Rhode  Island.  Reaching  the  vicinity  of  Newport, 
she  lay  to  behind  a  sheltering  peninsula,  waiting  for  the 
night  to  come,  so  that  she  could  drop  down  upon  the 
Englishman  under  the  cloak  of  darkness. 

Blackness  settled  upon  the  still  and  waveless  water. 
With  muffled  oars  the  sloop  now  glided  towards  the 
dark  hull  of  the  British  gun-boat;  her  men  armed  to 
the  teeth,  with  fuses  alight,  and  ready  to  touch  off  the 
cannon  at  the  slightest  sign  of  discovery.  All  was  still 
upon  the  towering  deck  of  the  war-vessel  and  the  little 
lights  twinkled  at  her  bow. 

But  what  was  that? 

Suddenly  a  voice  came  through  the  darkness. 

"Who  goes  there?" 

No  answer  came  but  the  dip  of  the  oars  in  unison. 

"  Who  goes  there?    Answer,  or  I  fire!  " 

Again  the  slow  beat  of  the  oars  and  nothing  more. 

Crash! 

A  musket  spoke  from  the  jutting  bow  in  front  of 
the  sloop  and  a  bullet  struck  in  the  foremast  of  the 
staunch  attacker,  with  a  resounding  z-i-n-n-g ! 

"  We're  discovered,"  whispered  Talbot.  "  Pull  for 
your  lives,  men,  and  punch  her  like  a  battering-ram. 
When  weVe  cut  through  the  netting,  let  every  fellow 
dash  upon  her  decks,  and  fight  for  every  inch  you  can." 

As  he  ceased  speaking,  the  bow  of  the  sloop  struck 
the  roping  stretched  around  the  man-o'-warsman,  and 
a  ripping  and  tearing  was  plainly  heard  above  the  crash 
of  small  arms,  the  shouts  of  men,  and  the  rumble  of 
hawsers.  Two  cannon  "spoke  from  the  side  of  the 
Englishman,  and,  as  their  roar  echoed  across  the  still 


TALBOT, 


HIMSELF,    AT    THE    HEAD    OF    HIS    ENTIRE    CREW,    CAME 
LEAPING    ACROSS    THE    SIDE." 


CAPTAIN   SILAS    TALBOT        289 

ocean,  the  guns  of  the  Jasamine  belched  forth  their 
answer. 

The  anchor  attached  to  the  bowsprit  had  done  what 
was  desired.  It  tore  a  great  hole  in  the  stout  netting, 
ripped  open  a  breach  sufficiently  wide  for  entrance  to 
the  deck,  and,  as  the  cannon  grumbled  and  spat  at  the 
sloop,  —  the  bowsprit  was  black  with  jack-tars  scram- 
bling for  an  opportunity  to  board  the  Britisher. 

"  Now,  men,"  shouted  Major  Talbot,  above  the  din. 
"  Swing  our  craft  sideways !  Let  go  the  port  guns, 
and  then  let  every  mother's  son  rush  the  foe!  And 
your  cry  must  be,  *  Death  and  no  quarter ! '  " 

As  he  ceased,  the  good  Jasamine  was  forced  side- 
ways into  the  man-o'-warsman,  and,  propelled  by  the 
current,  drifted  against  her  with  tremendous  force, 
crushing  the  remaining  nets  as  she  did  so.  A  few  of 
the  Americans  were  already  on  the  deck  in  a  terrific 
struggle  with  the  half-sleepy  English  seamen,  but  —  in 
a  moment  —  Talbot,  himself,  at  the  head  of  his  entire 
crew,  came  leaping  across  the  side. 

Now  was  a  scene  of  carnage.  The  cutlasses  of  both 
Yankee  tar  and  British,  were  doing  awful  execution, 
and  pistols  were  cracking  like  hail  upon  the  roof. 
Back,  back,  went  the  English  before  the  vigorous  as- 
sault of  the  stormers,  and,  as  the  deck  was  now  piled 
with  the  dead  and  dying,  the  commander  of  the  man- 
o'-warsman  cried  out, 

"  I  surrender !  Cease,  you  Yankee  sea-dogs.  You're 
too  smart  for  me !  " 

So  saying,  he  held  up  a  handkerchief  tied  to  his 
cutlass,  and  the  battle  ceased. 


290      FAMOUS   PRIVATEERSMEN 

The  story  of  the  fight  of  Silas  Talbot's  was  now  on 
every  lip,  and  all  praised  the  daring  and  courage  of 
this  valorous  Major,  who  was  as  bold  as  a  lion,  and 
as  courageous  as  any  seaman  who  sailed  upon  the  sea. 

Promotion  came  rapidly  to  the  soldier-sailor.  In 
1779  he  became  a  colonel  and  was  placed  in  command 
of  the  Argo,  a  sloop  of  about  one  hundred  tons,  armed 
with  twelve  six-pounders,  and  carrying  but  sixty  men. 
'Tis  said  that  she  looked  like  a  "  clumsy  Albany 
trader,"  with  one  great,  rakish  mast,  an  immense  main- 
sail, and  a  lean  boom.  Her  tiller  was  very  lengthy,  she 
had  high  bulwarks  and  a  wide  stern  —  but,  in  spite  of 
her  raw  appearance,  she  could  sail  fast  and  could  show 
a  clean  pair  of  heels  to  most  vessels  of  twice  her  size. 

Shortly  after  taking  charge  of  this  privateer,  word 
was  brought  that  Captain  Hazard  of  the  privateer 
King  George  was  off  the  coast  of  Rhode  Island. 

"  That's  what  I  want,"  cried  Captain  Talbot,  slap- 
ping his  knee.  "  This  fellow  Hazard  is  an  American. 
He  was  born  in  Rhode  Island,  and,  instead  of  joining 
in  our  righteous  cause  against  the  Mother  Country,  he 
has  elected  to  fight  against  us.  For  the  base  purpose 
of  plundering  his  old  neighbors  and  friends,  he  has 
fitted  out  the  King  George  and  has  already  done  great 
damage  on  the  coast.  Let  me  but  catch  the  old  fox  and 
I'll  give  him  a  taste  of  American  lead.  I'll  put  a  stop 
to  the  depredations  of  this  renegade." 

The  King  George  had  fourteen  guns  and  eighty  men, 
but  this  did  not  worry  staunch  and  nervy  Silas  Talbot. 
He  started  in  pursuit  of  her,  as  soon  as  he  learned  of 
her  whereabouts,  and,  before  many  days,  sighted  a  sail 


CAPTAIN   SILAS   TALBOT        291 

just  off  the  New  York  coast,  which  was  hoped  to  be 
the  vessel  of  the  renegade. 

Mile  after  mile  was  passed.  Hour  by  hour  the  Argo 
ploughed  after  the  silvery  sails,  until,  late  in  the  after- 
noon, the  stranger  hovered  near  a  shallow  harbor  on 
the  coast,  and  seemed  to  await  the  on-coming  privateer 
with  full  confidence. 

The  Argo  boomed  along  under  a  spanking  sou'- 
wester and,  sailing  near  the  stranger,  to  the  keen  eyes 
of  Talbot  came  the  welcome  sight  of  King  George 
painted  upon  the  stern  of  the  rakish  privateer. 

"  All  hands  man  the  guns/'  cried  he.  "  We'll  sink 
th'  rascally  Hazard  with  all  his  crew,  unless  he  strikes. 
She's  got  more  men  and  guns,  but  what  care  we  for 
that.  Take  hold,  my  Hearties,  and  we'll  soon  make  her 
know  her  master." 

The  King  George  seemed  to  welcome  the  coming 
fight ;  she  luffed ;  lay  to ;  and  her  men  could  be  seen 
standing  ready  at  the  polished  cannon.  Now  was  one 
of  the  strangest  battles  of  American  sea  history. 

The  King  George  cruised  along  under  a  full 
spread  of  canvas,  jibbed,  came  about  upon  the  port 
quarter  of  the  stranger,  and  ran  up  to  within  shooting 
distance,  when  a  broadside  was  poured  into  the  deck 
of  the  rolling  Argo.  She  replied  with  her  own  four- 
teen guns,  and,  before  they  could  be  reloaded,  the  King 
George  struck  her  alongside;  the  American  seaman 
swarmed  across  the  rail ;  and  —  if  we  are  to  believe  a 
historian  of  the  period  —  "drove  the  crew  of  King 
George  from  their  quarters,  taking  possession  of  her, 
without  a  man  on  either  side  beine  killed."    Hats  off 


292      FAMOUS   PRIVATEERSMEN 

to  the  doughty  Silas  Talbot  for  this  brave  adventure! 
Did  you  ever  hear  of  such  a  fight  with  no  man  ever 
being  slaughtered? 

Again  rang  the  fame  of  Silas  Talbot,  but  he  was  not 
to  rest  long  upon  laurels  won.  The  British  privateer 
Dragon  —  of  three  hundred  tons  and  eighty  men  — 
was  hovering  near  Providence,  Rhode  Island,  hungry 
and  eager  for  unprotected  merchantmen. 

"  I'll  have  to  strike  her,"  said  Captain  Talbot. 

It  was  a  beautiful  day  in  June.  As  the  Dragon 
drowsed  along  listlessly  a  dozen  miles  off  the  shore,  her 
top-sails  barely  filling  in  the  gentle  southerly  breeze,  the 
watch  suddenly  stirred,  and  sang  out  in  no  gentle 
tones, 

"  Sail  ho,  off  the  starboard !  Looks  like  Captain 
Talbot  of  the  ^r^o.'" 

The  captain  came  bounding  from  his  cabin,  glass  in 
hand. 

"  Sure  enough,"  said  he,  scanning  the  white  sails 
upon  the  horizon.  "  It's  Talbot  and  we're  in  for  a 
tight  affair.    All  hands  prepare  for  actiort !  " 

There  was  noise  and  confusion  upon  the  deck  of  the 
privateer  as  the  guns  were  sponged,  charges  were 
rammed  home,  and  all  prepared  for  battle.  Meanwhile, 
the  stranger  came  nearer,  and  rounding  to  within 
striking  distance,  crashed  a  broadside  into  the  slum- 
bering Dragon,  who  had  not  yet  shown  her  fangs. 

Crackle!  Crackle!  Boom! 

The  small  arms  from  the  Britisher  began  to  spit  at 
the  advancing  privateer,  and  seven  of  her  fourteen 
^ns  rang  out  a  welcome  to  the  sailors  of  Rhode 


CAPTAIN   SILAS   TALBOT        293 

Island.  The  solid  shot  ploughed  through  the  rigging, 
cutting  ropes  and  spars  with  knife-like  precision. 

"  Round  her  to  on  the  port  quarter!  "  shouted  Cap- 
tain Talbot,  '*  and  get  near  enough  for  boarding!" 

But,  as  the  Argo  swung  near  her  antagonist,  the 
Dragon  dropped  away  —  keeping  just  at  pistol-shot 
distance. 

"  Run  her  down! "  yelled  the  stout  Rhode  Islander, 
as  he  saw  this  manoeuvre  of  his  wily  foe.  Then  he 
uttered  an  exclamation  of  disgust,  for,  as  he  spoke,  a 
bullet  struck  his  speaking  trumpet^  knocking  it  to  the 
deck,  and  piercing  it  with  a  jagged  hole. 

"  Never  mind !  "  cried  he,  little  disconcerted  at  the 
mishap.    "  Give  it  to  her,  boys !  " 

Then  he  again  uttered  an  exclamation,  for  a  bound- 
ing cannon  ball  —  ricochetting  from  the  deck  —  took 
off  the  end  of  his  coat-tail.^ 

"  I'll  settle  with  you  for  that,"  yelled  the  old  sea- 
dog,  leaping  to  a  cannon,  and,  pointing  it  himself,  he 
touched  the  fuse  to  the  vent.  A  puff  of  smoke,  a  roar, 
and  a  ball  ploughed  into  the  mainmast  of  the  rocking 
Dragon. 

Talbot  smiled  with  good  humor. 

"  Play  for  that,  my  brave  fellows,"  he  called  out, 
above  the  din  of  battle.  "  Once  get  the  mainmast 
overside,  and  we  can  board  her." 

With  a  cheer,  his  sailors  redoubled  their  efforts  to 
sink  the  Dragon,  and  solid  shot  fairly  rained  into  her 
hull,  as  the  two  antagonists  bobbed  around  the  rolling 

*A  true  incident  vouched  for  by  two  historians. 


294      FAMOUS   PRIVATEERSMEN 

ocean  in  this  death  grapple.  Thus  they  sparred  and 
clashed  for  four  and  a  half  hours,  when,  with  a  great 
splitting  of  sails  and  wreck  of  rigging,  the  mainmast 
of  the  Dragon  trembled,  wavered,  and  fell  to  leeward 
with  a  sickening  thud. 

"  She's  ours !  "  yelled  Captain  Talbot,  through  his 
dented  speaking  trumpet. 

Sure  enough,  the  Dragon  had  had  enough.  Her 
wings  had  been  clipped,  and,  in  a  moment  more,  a 
white  flag  flew  from  her  rigging. 

"The  Argo  is  sinking!  The  Argo  is  sinking!" 
came  a  cry,  at  this  moment. 

"  Inspect  the  sides  of  our  sloop,"  cried  Talbot. 

This  was  done,  immediately,  and  it  was  found  that 
there  were  numerous  shot-holes  between  wind  and 
water,  which  were  speedily  plugged  up.  Then,  bear- 
ing down  upon  the  crippled  Dragon,  she  was  boarded ; 
a  prize-crew  was  put  aboard ;  and  the  Argo  steered  for 
home,  her  men  singing, 

"Talk  about  your  gay,  old  cocks, 
Yankee,  Doodle,  Dandy, 
*  Si  *  Talbot   he   can   heave  the  blocks, 
And  stick  like  pepp'mint  candy. 

"  Yankee  —  Doodle  —  Shoot  and  kill, 
Yankee  —  Doodle  —  Dandy, 
Yankee  —  Doodle  —  Back  an*  fill, 
Yankee  —  Doodle  —  Dandy." 

Silas  Talbot,  in  fact,  had  done  extremely  well,  but, 
not  content  with  his  laurels  already  won,  he  soon  put 
out  again  upon  the  Argo,  in  company  with  another 


CAPTAIN   SILAS   TALBOT        295 

privateer  from  Providence,  Rhode  Island,  called  the 
Saratoga;  which  sailed  under  a  Captain  Munro.  They 
were  not  off  the  coast  more  than  two  days  when  they 
came  across  the  Dublin;  a  smart,  English  privateer- 
cutter  of  fourteen  guns,  coming  out  of  Sandy  Hook. 
Instead  of  running  away,  she  ploughed  onward,  and 
cleared  for  action. 

The  Argo  and  the  Saratoga  ran  in  upon  the  wind- 
ward quarter  and  banged  away  with  audacity.  The 
fight  lasted  for  an  hour.  Then  —  as  the  Argo  tacked 
in  closer  in  order  to  grapple  and  board  —  the  Saratoga 
was  headed  for  the  privateer.  But  —  instead  of  com- 
ing in  —  she  began  to  run  off  in  the  wind. 

"  Hard  a-weather !  Hard  up  there  with  the  helm !  " 
cried  Captain  Munro. 

"  It  is  hard  up !  "  cried  the  steersman. 

"  You  lie,  you  blackguard !  "  cried  Munro.  "  She 
goes  away  lasking!    Hard  a-weather  I  say  again!  " 

"  It  is  hard  a-weather,  I  say  again,  captain,"  cried 
the  fellow  at  the  tiller. 

"  Captain  Talbot  thinks  that  I  am  running  away 
when  I  want  to  join  him,"  cried  Munro.  "  What  the 
deuce  is  the  matter  anyway?  " 

"  Why,  I  can  tell  you,"  cried  a  young  Lieutenant. 
"  You've  got  an  iron  tiller  in  place  of  the  wooden  one, 
and  she's  loose  in  the  rudder  head,  so  your  boat  won't 
steer  correctly." 

"  Egad,  you're  right,"  said  Munro,  as  he  examined 
the  top  of  the  tiller.  "  Now,  jam  her  over  and  we'll 
catch  this  Dublin  of  old  Ireland,  or  else  I'm  no  sailor. 
We'll  give  her  a  broadside,  too,  when  we  come  up." 


296      FAMOUS   PRIVATEERSMEN 

The  ArgOj  meanwhile,  was  hammering  the  EngHsh- 
man  in  good  fashion,  and,  as  the  Saratoga  pumped  a 
broadside  into  her  —  raking  her  from  bow  to  stern  — 
the  Dublin  struck  her  colors. 

"  Two  to  one,  is  too  much  odds,"  cried  the  English 
captain,  as  a  boat  neared  the  side  of  his  vessel.  "  I 
could  have  licked  either  of  you,  alone." 

And,  at  this,  both  of  the  American  privateersmen 
chuckled. 

Old  "  Si  "  Talbot  was  soon  in  another  fight.  Three 
days  later  he  chased  another  sail,  and  coming  up  with 
her,  found  his  antagonist  to  be  the  Betsy:  an  English 
privateer  of  twelve  guns  and  fifty-eight  men,  com- 
manded by  an  honest  Scotchman. 

The  Argo  ranged  up  alongside  and  Talbot  hailed 
the  stranger.  After  a  bit  of  talk  he  hoisted  the  Stars 
and  Stripes,  crying, 

"You  must  haul  down  those  British  colors,  my 
friend!" 

To  which  the  Scot  replied : 

"  Notwithstanding  I  find  you  an  enemy,  as  I  sus- 
pected, yet,  sir,  I  believe  that  I  shall  let  them  hang  a 
little  longer,  with  your  permission.  So  fire  away, 
Flanagan ! " 

"  And  that  Fll  do,"  yelled  Talbot.  "  Flanagan  will 
be  O'Toole  and  O' Grady  before  the  morning's  over. 
For  Fll  beat  you  like  an  Irish  constable  from  Cork." 

So  it  turned  out.  Before  an  hour  was  past,  the 
Betsy  had  struck,  the  captain  was  killed,  and  all  of 
his  officers  were  wounded. 

"  Old   Si  "  —  you  see  —  had  had  good  luck.     So 


CAPTAIN   SILAS   TALBOT        297 

well,  indeed,  had  he  fought,  that  in  1780  he  was  put 
in  command  of  a  good-sized  vessel,  the  General  Wash- 
ington. In  her  he  cruised  about  Sandy  Hook  in  search 
of  spoil. 

One  hazy  day  in  August,  the  watch  sang  out, 

"  Several  sail  astern.  Sir !  Looks  like  a  whole 
squadron !  " 

Talbot  seized  the  glass  and  gazed  intently  at  the 
specks  of  white. 

"  Egad !  It  is  a  squadron,"  said  he,  at  length. 
"  And  they're  after  me.  Crowd  on  every  stitch  of 
canvas  and  we'll  run  for  it." 

So  all  sail  was  hoisted,  and  the  General  Washington 
stood  out  to  sea. 

But  the  sails  of  the  pursuers  grew  strangely  clear. 
They  came  closer,  ever  closer,  and  Talbot  paced  the 
deck  impatiently. 

''  Gad  Zooks !  "  cried  he,  "  I  wish  that  I  could  fly  like 
a  bird." 

He  could  not  fly,  and,  in  two  hours'  time  the  red  flag 
on  the  foremast  of  a  British  brig  was  clear  to  the  eyes 
of  the  crew  of  the  privateer.  When  —  an  hour  later  — 
a  solid  shot  spun  across  his  bow,  "  Old  Si  "  Talbot  hove 
to,  and  ran  up  the  white  flag.  He  was  surrounded  by 
six  vessels  of  the  English  and  he  felt,  for  once,  that 
discretion  was  the  better  part  of  valor. 

"  Old  Si "  was  now  thrown  into  a  prison  ship  oflF 
Long  Island  and  then  was  taken  to  England  aboard 
the  Yarmouth.  Imprisoned  at  Dartmoor,  he  made 
four  desperate  attempts  to  escape.    All  failed. 


298      FAMOUS   PRIVATEERSMEN 

In  the  summer  of  1781  he  was  hberated;  found  his 
way  home  to  Rhode  Island ;  and  died  "  with  his  boots 
on  "  in  New  York,  June  30th,  18 13.  The  old  sea- 
dogs  of  his  native  state  still  cherish  the  memory  of 
"  Capting  Si ;  "  singing  a  little  song,  which  runs : 

"  He  could  take  *er  brig  or  sloop,  my  boy, 
An'  fight  her  like  'er  man. 
He  could  steer  'er  barque  or  barquentine, 
An'  make  her  act  jest  gran! 
*  Ole  Si '  wuz  'er  rip-dazzler, 
His  flag  wuz  never  struck, 
Until  'er  British  squadroO'U, 
Jest  catched  him  in  th*  ruck." 

"  So  drink  'er  drop  ter  *  Ole  Si,'  Sky-high,  Oh  my ! 

Drink  'er  glass  ter  '  Ole  Si,'  th'  skipper  from  our  kentry. 

Give  three  cheers  fer  *  Ole  Si,'  Sky-high,  Oh  my ! 

Give  three  cheers  fer  *  Ole  Si,'  th'  pride  o'  Newport's  gentry." 


CAPTAIN   "JOSH"   BARNEY 
THE   IRREPRESSIBLE   YANKEE 

(1759-1818) 


"  Never  strike  your  flag  until  you  have  to.  And  if  you  have 
to,  why  let  it  come  down  easy-like,  with  one,  last  gun,  —  f er 
luck,"  —  Maxims  of  1812 


lu,   wny   lei   11   come    Qov 
luck."  — Afa;riW  of  1812, 


CAPTAIN  "JOSH"  BARNEY 

THE  IRREPRESSIBLE  YANKEE 

(1759-1818) 

If  you  would  hear  of  fighting  brave, 

Of  war's  alarms  and  prisons  dark, 

Then,  listen  to  the  tale  I  tell, 

Of  Yankee  pluck— and  cruising  barque, 

Which,  battling  on  the  rolling  sea,  ^ 

There  fought  and  won,  —  Can  such  things  be  ? 

IT  was  about  eight  o'clock  in  the  evening.  The 
moon  was  bright,  and  as  the  privateer  Pomona 
swung  along  in  the  fresh  breeze,  her  Captain, 
Isaiah  Robinson  of  New  York,  laid  his  hand  softly 
upon  the  shoulder  of  his  first  ofificer,  Joshua  Barney, 
saying, 

'*  A  ship  ofif  the  lee-quarter,  Barney,  she's  an  Eng- 
lishman, or  else  my  name's  not  Robinson." 
Barney  raised  his  glass. 

"  A  British  brig,  and  after  us,  too.  She*s  a  fast 
sailer  and  is  overhauling  us.  But  we'll  let  her  have 
a  broadside  from  our  twelve  guns  and  I  believe  that 
we  can  stop  her." 

The  Pomona  carried  thirty-five  men.  Laden  with 
tobacco  for  Bordeaux,  France,  she  was  headed  for 
that  sunny  land, — but  all  ready  for  a  fight,  if  one 
should  come  to  her.  And  for  this  she  carried  twelve 
guns,  as  her  first  officer  had  said. 

801 


302      FAMOUS   PEIVATEERSMEN 

The  British  boat  came  nearer  and  nearer.  Finally 
she  was  close  enough  for  a  voice  to  be  heard  from  her 
deck,  and  she  ran  up  her  colors.  A  cry  came  from 
the  black  body, 

"What  ship  is  that?" 

There  was  no  reply,  but  the  Stars  and  Stripes  were 
soon  floating  from  the  mainmast  of  the  American. 

"Haul  down  those  colors!"  came  from  the  Brit- 
isher. 

There  was  no  answer,  but  the  Pomona  swung 
around  so  that  her  port  guns  could  bear,  and  a  clash- 
ing broadside  plunged  into  the  pursuer.  Down  came 
her  fore-topsail,  the  rigging  cut  and  torn  in  many 
places,  and,  as  the  American  again  showed  her  heels, 
the  British  captain  cried  out, 

"  All  sail  aloft  and  catch  the  saucy  and  insolent 
privateer !  " 

.    Then  commenced  one  of  the  most  interesting  run- 
ning actions  of  American  naval  history. 

"  The  cursed  American  has  no  stern-gun  ports," 
said  the  British  sea-captain.  "  So  keep  the  ship  abaft, 
and  on  th'  port  quarter,  where  we  can  let  loose  our 
bow-guns  and  get  little  in  return." 

This  was  done,  but  —  if  we  are  to  believe  an  old 
chronicler  of  the  period  — "  The  British  crew  had 
been  thrown  into  such  confusion  by  the  Pomona's 
first  broadside  that  they  were  able  to  iire  only  one  or 
two  shots  every  half  hour," 

"  By  Gad,"  cried  Joshua  Barney  to  Captain  Rob- 
inson, about  this  time,  "  let's  cut  a  hole  in  our  stern, 
shove  a  cannon  through   it,   and   whale  the   British 


CAPTAIN   ^^JOSH''   BARNEY     303 

landlubber  as  he  nears  us  for  another  shot  with  her 
bow-chasers." 

The  captain  grinned. 

"  A  good  idea,  Barney,  a  good  idea,"  he  chuckled. 
"  Now  we  can  teach  her  to  keep  clear  of  us." 

So  a  three-pounder  soon  poked  her  nose  through 
the  stern,  and,  when  the  proud  Britisher  again  came 
up  for  one  of  her  leisurely  discharges,  she  received  a 
dose  of  grape  which  made  her  captain  haul  ofif  pre- 
cipitously. Nor  did  he  venture  near  again  for  an- 
other shot  at  the  saucy  fugitive. 

When  daylight  came,  sixteen  guns  were  counted 
upon  the  British  brig. 

''By  George!"  shouted  Barney.  "See  those  of- 
ficers in  the  rigging.  She's  a  gun-ship  —  a  regular 
ship-of-war." 

But  Captain  Robinson  laughed. 

"  That's  an  old  game,"  said  he.  "  They're  tryin' 
to  fool  us  into  the  belief  that  she's  a  real  gun-boat, 
so's  we'll  surrender  immediately.  But  see  —  she's 
drawin'  near  again  —  and  seems  as  if  she's  about  to 
board  us  from  the  looks  of  her  crew." 

Barney  gazed  intently  at  the  stranger. 

"  You're  right,"  said  he.  "  Load  the  three-pounder 
with  grape-shot." 

"  And  here's  a  crow-bar  as'll  tcrp  it  off  nice,"  put 
in  a  sailor. 

Captain  Robinson  laughed. 

"  Yes,  spike  her  in,  too.  She'll  plunk  a  hole  clear 
through  th'  rascal,"  he  cried.  "  I'll  touch  her  off 
myself." 


304      FAMOUS   PEIVATEERSMEN 

The  British  gun-boat  drew  nearer  and  nearer.  Just 
as  she  was  within  striking  distance  —  about  ten  yards 
—  the  three-pounder  was  touched  off  with  a  deaf 'ning 
roar. 

"  So  accurate  was  the  aim,"  says  an  old  historian, 
"  that  the  British  were  completely  baffled  in  their 
attempt;  their  foresails  and  all  their  weather  fore- 
shrouds  being  cut  away." 

"  Give  her  a  broadside !  "  called  out  Captain  Rob- 
inson, as  the  brig  sheered  off  in  order  to  support  its 
foremast,  which  tottered  with  its  own  weight;  the 
rigging  which  supported  it,  being  half  cut  away.  And, 
as  he  spoke  —  the  crew  let  drive  a  shower  of  balls 
and  grape-shot.    It  was  the  last  volley. 

The  Pomona  kept  upon  her  course,  while  the  white 
sails  of  the  attacker  grew  fainter  and  fainter  upon 
the  horizon. 

"  I  saw  her  name  as  she  ranged  in  close  to  us," 
said  Joshua  Barney,  slapping  Captain  Robinson  on  the 
back.    "  And  it  was  the  Rosebud." 

"  I  reckon  that  Rosebud  has  no  thorns  left," 
chuckled  Captain  Robinson,  and  he  was  still  chuck- 
ling when  the  little  Pomona  safely  sailed  into  the  har- 
bor of  Bordeaux  in  France.  The  voyage  had  been 
a  success. 

Here  a  store  of  guns,  powder  and  shot  was  pur- 
chased, and,  having  shipped  a  cargo  of  brandy,  and 
raised  the  crew  to  seventy  men,  the  staunch,  little  ves- 
sel set  sail  for  America. 

Not  three  days  from  the  coast  of  France  the  cry 
of  "  Sail  ho ! "  startled  all  on  board,  and,  upon  the 


CAPTAIN   ^^JOSH''   BARNEY     306 

starboard  quarter  —  loomed  a  British  privateer.  Upon 
nearer  view  she  was  seen  to  have  sixteen  guns  and 
seventy  men. 

"  All  hands  for  a  fight!  "  cried  Robinson.  "  Don't 
let  th'  fellow  escape." 

Now  was  a  hard  battle.  It  lasted  for  full  two  hours, 
and  —  in  the  end  —  the  Britisher  struck,  with  twelve 
killed  and  a  number  wounded,  while  the  American 
loss  was  but  one  killed  and  two  wounded.  The  Po- 
mona kept  upon  her  course,  jubilantly. 

But  the  saucy  ship  was  not  to  have  all  smooth  sail- 
ing. She  was  soon  captured  —  by  whom  it  is  not 
known  —  and  stout  "  Josh  "  Barney  became  a  pris- 
oner of  war.  In  December,  1780,  with  about  seventy 
American  officers,  he  was  placed  on  board  the  Yar- 
mouth—  a  sixty- four-gun  brig  —  and  was  shipped 
to  England. 

Now  listen  to  the  treatment  given  him  according 
to  a  contemporaneous  historian.  Did  you  ever  hear 
of  anything  more  atrocious  ?  Peace  —  indeed  —  had 
more  horrors  than  war  in  the  year  1 780. 

"  From  the  time  these  Americans  stepped  aboard 
the  Yarmouth  their  captors  gave  it  to  be  understood, 
by  hints  and  innuendos,  that  they  were  being  taken 
to  England  *  to  be  hanged  as  rebels ; '  and,  indeed 
the  treatment  they  received  aboard  the  Yarmouth  on 
the  passage  over,  led  them  to  believe  that  the  British 
officers  intended  to  cheat  the  gallows  of  their  prey,  by 
causing  the  prisoners  to  die  before  they  reached  port. 

"  On  coming  aboard  the  ship-of-the-line,  these  of- 
ficers were  stowed  away  in  the  lower  hold,  next  to 


306      FAMOUS   PRIVATEERSMEN 

the  keel,  under  five  decks,  and  many  feet  below  the 
water-line.  Here,  in  a  twelve-by-twenty-foot  room, 
with  upcurving  floor,  and  only  three  feet  high,  the 
seventy-one  men  were  kept  for  fifty-three  days,  like 
so  much  merchandise  —  without  light  or  good  air  — 
unable  to  stand  upright,  with  no  means  to  get  away. 

"  Their  food  was  of  the  poorest  quality,  and  was 
supplied  in  such  insufiicient  quantities,  that,  whenever 
one  of  the  prisoners  died,  the  survivors  concealed  the 
fact,  in  order  that  the  dead  man's  allowance  might  be 
added  to  theirs.  The  water  which  they  were  served 
to  drink  was  atrocious. 

"  From  the  time  the  Yarmouth  left  New  York  till 
she  reached  Plymouth,  in  a  most  tempestuous  winter 
passage,  these  men  were  kept  in  this  loathsome  dun- 
geon. Eleven  died  in  delirium;  their  wild  ravings 
and  piercing  shrieks  appalling  their  comrades,  and 
giving  them  a  foretaste  of  what  they,  themselves, 
might  expect.  Not  even  a  surgeon  was  permitted  to 
visit  them. 

"  Arriving  at  Plymouth,  the  pale,  emaciated  men 
were  ordered  to  come  on  deck.  Not  one  obeyed,  for 
they  were  unable  to  stand  upright.  Consequently 
they  were  hoisted  up,  the  ceremony  being  grimly  sug- 
gestive of  the  manner  in  which  they  had  been  treated, 
—  like  merchandise.  And  what  were  they  to  do,  now 
that  they  had  been  placed  on  deck  ? 

"  The  light  of  the  sun,  which  they  had  scarcely  seen 
for  fifty-three  days,  fell  upon  their  weak,  dilated  pu- 
pils with  blinding  force:  their  limbs  were  unable  to 
uphold  them,  their  frames  wasted  by  disease  and  want. 


CAPTAIN   ^^JOSH'^   BARNEY     307 

Seeking  for  support,  they  fell  in  a  helpless  mass,  one 
upon  the  other,  waiting  and  almost  hoping  for  the 
blow  that  was  to  fall  upon  them  next.  Captain  Silas 
Talbot  was  one  of  these  unfortunate  prisoners. 

"  To  send  them  ashore  in  this  condition  was  *  im- 
practicable,' so  the  British  ofBcers  said,  and  we  read- 
ily discover  that  this  '  impracticable  '  served  the  pur- 
pose of  diverting  the  indignation  of  the  land's  folk, 
which  sure  would  be  aroused,  if  they  knew  that  such 
brutality  had  been  practiced  under  the  cross  of  St. 
George  (the  cross  upon  the  British  flag). 

"  Waiting,  then,  until  the  captives  could,  at  least, 
endure  the  light  of  day,  and  could  walk  without  lean- 
ing on  one  another,  or  clutching  at  every  object  for 
support,  the  officers  had  them  removed  to  the  old  Mill 
Prison." 

This  story  has  been  denied,  for  the  reason  that  the 
log  of  the  Yarmouth  shows  that  she  was  forty-four 
and  not  fifty-three  days  at  sea,  and  the  captain  writes : 

"  We  had  the  prisoners  '  watched '  (divided  into 
port  and  starboard  watch)  and  set  them  to  the  pumps. 
I  found  it  necessary  so  to  employ  them,  the  ship's 
company,  from  their  weak  and  sickly  state,  being 
unequal  to  that  duty,  and,  on  that  account  to  order 
them  whole  allowance  of  provisions." 

It  would  have  been  impossible  for  men  to  be  in  the 
condition  which  the  first  historian  describes  if  they 
had  to  man  the  pumps.  It  would  have  been  impossible 
for  them  to  have  done  an  hour's  work.  Therefore, 
I,  myself,  believe  the  second  story.    Don't  you? 

But  to  return  to  stout  "  Josh  "  Barney,  now  medi- 


308      FAMOUS   PEIVATEERSMEN 

tating  thoughts  of  escape  in  old  Mill  Prison.  Bold 
and  resourceful  he  was  always,  and  he  was  now  deter- 
mined to  face  the  difficulties  of  an  exit  and  the  chances 
of  detection.     "  I  must  and  can  get  away,"  he  said. 

The  prisoners  were  accustomed  to  play  leap-frog, 
and  one  day  the  crafty  "  Josh  "  pretended  that  he  had 
sprained  his  ankle.  Constructing  two  crutches  —  out 
of  pieces  of  boards  —  he  limped  around  the  prison- 
yard  and  completely  deceived  all  but  a  few  of  his 
most  intimate  friends. 

One  day  —  it  was  May  the  eighteenth,  1781  —  he 
passed  a  sentry  near  the  inner  gate.  The  fellow's  name 
was  Sprokett  and  he  had  served  in  the  British  army 
in  America,  where  he  had  received  many  kindnesses 
from  the  country  people.  For  this  reason  his  heart 
warmed  to  the  stout,  young  "  Josh,"  who  had  often 
engaged  him  in  conversation. 

Hopping  to  the  gate  upon  his  crutches,  the  youthful 
American  whispered, 

"  Give  me  a  British  uniform  and  I  will  get  away. 
Can  you  do  it?  " 

Sprokett  smiled. 

"  Sure,"  said  he. 

"To-day?" 

"  Dinner." 

And  this  meant  one  o'clock,  when  the  warders 
dined. 

"  All  right,"  whispered  "  Josh,"  smiling  broadly, 
and  he  again  hobbled  around  the  yard. 

After  awhile  the  <=entry  motioned  for  him  to  come 
nearer.    He  did  so  —  and  as  he  approached  —  a  large 


CAPTAIN   ^^JOSH''   BARNEY     309 

bundle  was  stealthily  shoved  into  his  arms.  He 
hastened  to  his  cell  and  there  put  on  the  undress  uni- 
form of  an  officer  of  the  British  army. 

Drawing  on  his  great-coat,  he  went  into  the  yard 
and  hobbled  about  upon  his  two  sticks  until  the  time 
drew  near  for  the  mid-day  mess.  Then  he  drew  close 
to  the  gate. 

One  o'clock  tolled  from  the  iron  bell  upon  the 
prison  rampart,  and,  as  its  deep-toned  echoes  sounded 
from  its  tower,  several  of  Barney's  friends  engaged 
the  half-dozen  sentries  in  conversation.  It  was  the 
time  for  action. 

The  astute  "  Josh  "  suddenly  dropped  his  crutches. 
Then  —  walking  across  the  enclosure  towards  the 
gate,  —  he  winked  to  the  sentry.  A  companion  was 
at  hand.  With  a  spring  he  leaped  upon  his  shoulders. 
One  boost  —  and  he  was  on  top  of  the  walk.  An- 
other spring,  and  he  had  dropped  to  the  other  side  as 
softly  as  a  cat. 

But  the  second  gate  and  sentry  had  to  be  passed. 

Walking  up  to  this  red-coated  individual  he  placed 
four  guineas  (about  $20.00)  into  his  outstretched 
palm.  The  soldier  smiled  grimly,  as  the  great-coat 
was  tossed  aside,  and  the  shrewdest  privateer  in  the 
American  Navy  walked  towards  the  opening  through 
the  outer  wall,  which  was  usually  left  ajar  for  the 
convenience  of  the  prison  officials.  Another  sentry 
stood  upon  duty  at  this  point. 

Barney  nodded.  The  sentry  had  been  "  squared  " 
(told  of  the  coming  escape)  and  so  he  turned  his  back. 
Thus  —  with  his  heart  beating  like  a  trip-hammer  — 


310      FAMOUS   PRIVATEERSMEN 

"  Josh,"  the  nervy  one  —  walked  down  the  cobbled 
street  outside  of  the  "  Old  Mill."    He  was  free. 

Dodging  into  a  lane,  he  soon  met  a  friend  who  had 
been  told  of  his  attempt,  and  who  took  him  to  the 
house  of  an  old  clergyman  in  Plymouth.  In  the  morn- 
ing, with  two  fellow-countrymen,  who  were  also  in 
hiding  (for  they  had  been  captured  as  passengers  in 
a  merchant  vessel),  he  secured  a  fishing-smack. 
"  Josh  "  now  covered  his  uniform.  Putting  on  an 
old  coat  with  a  tarred  rope  tied  around  his  waist,  a 
pair  of  torn  trousers,  and  a  tarpaulin  hat,  the  dis- 
guised Jack-tar  ran  the  little  vessel  down  the  River 
Plym,  just  as  day  was  dawning.  The  forts  and  men- 
of-war  were  safely  passed,  and  the  little  shallop  tossed 
upon  the  gleaming  wavelets  of  the  English  channel. 

We  are  told  that  his  escape  was  not  noticed  for  some 
time  because  "  a  slender  youth  who  was  capable  of 
creeping  through  the  window-bars  at  pleasure  crawled 
into  Barney's  cell  (in  the  Old  Mill  Prison)  and  an- 
swered for  him."  I  doubt  this,  for  —  if  you  have 
ever  seen  the  bars  of  a  prison  —  it  would  take  a  Jack 
Spratt  to  get  through  them,  and  Jack  Spratts  are  not 
common.  At  any  rate  someone  answered  to  the  daily 
roll-call  for  Joshua  B.,  so  that  it  was  full  two  weeks 
before  the  authorities  knew  of  his  escape.  Perhaps 
there  was  a  ventriloquist  in  the  jail. 

The  tiny  boat  in  which  the  adventurous  American 
hoped  to  reach  the  welcome  shores  of  France,  bobbed 
up  and  down,  as  she  ambled  towards  the  low-lying 
coast,  under  a  gentle  southerly  breeze.  But  there  was 
trouble  in  this  self-same  wind,  for  the  white  wings 


CAPTAIN   **JOSH''    BARNEY     311 

of  a  British  privateer  grew  nearer  and  nearer,  and  a 
hail  soon  came : 

*'  What's  your  name,  and  where  are  you  bound  ?  " 

Barney  and  his  partners  in  distress  did  not  answer 
at  all.  They  scowled  as  a  boat  was  lowered  from  the 
side  of  their  pursuer,  and  quickly  splashed  towards 
them.  In  not  many  moments,  a  swearing  sea-captain 
swung  himself  upon  their  deck. 

"  Who  are  you,  you  lubbers?  "  said  he.  ''  Where' 
yer  papers,  and  where'  yer  bound  to  ?  " 

*'  I'm  a  British  officer,"  replied  the  astute  Joshua, 
opening  his  coat  and  disclosing  the  uniform  of  the 
service.  "  I  am  bound  for  France  upon  official  busi- 
ness." 

The  Captain  snickered. 

"  An'  with  two  others  in  er'  launch  ?  Aw  go  tell 
that  to  th'  marines !  " 

"  It's  God's  truth.    I'm  in  a  state  secret." 

"  Wall  —  be  that  as  it  may  be  —  you  must  come 
aboard  of  my  vessel  and  tell  yer  state  secret  to  th' 
authorities  in  England.  Meanwhile,  I'll  put  a  skipper 
of  my  own  aboard  yer  vessel  and  we'll  travel  together 
—  bein'  friends." 

Barney  swore  beneath  his  breath. 

Thus  the  two  boats  beat  towards  the  coast  of  Merrie 
England  in  company,  and  upon  the  day  following, 
came  to  anchor  in  a  small  harbor,  six  miles  from 
Plymouth.  The  captain  of  the  privateer  went  ashore 
in  order  to  report  to  Admiral  Digby  at  Plymouth, 
while  most  of  the  crew  also  hastened  to  the  beach  in 
order  to  avoid  the  chance  of  being  seized  by  the  press- 


312      B^AMOUS   PRIVATEERSMEN 

gang,  which  harried  incoming  vessels  for  recruits  for 
His  Majesty's  service. 

"Can't  I  go,  too?"  asked  the  cautious  "Josh." 

"  No,  you  must  remain  on  board  until  we  come  for 
you,"  said  the  captain,  as  he  jumped  into  his  boat  en 
route  for  the  shore.  "  Mister  Officer,  I  want  to  search 
your  record."    Then  he  laughed  brutishly. 

But  Barney's  thinking  cap  was  working  like  a  mill 
race.  There  was  a  jolly-boat  tied  to  the  stern  of  the 
privateer,  and,  when  all  were  safe  ashore,  he  gently 
slipped  into  this,  purposely  skinning  his  leg  as  he  did 
so.  Then  he  sculled  to  the  beach;  where  a  group  of 
idlers  stood  looking  out  to  sea. 

"  Here,"  he  cried,  as  he  neared  them.  "  Help  me 
haul  up  this  boat,  will  yer?    She's  awful  heavy." 

A  custom's  officer  was  among  these  loiterers  and  he 
was  inquisitive. 

"Who  are  you?"  said  he.  "What  regiment  and 
where  stationed,  pray?  " 

"  That  I  cannot  answer,  my  friend,"  calmly  replied 
the  acute  "  Josh,"  pointing  to  the  blood  as  it  trickled 
through  his  stocking.  "  I  am  badly  injured,  you  see, 
and  must  go  away  in  order  to  get  my  leg  tied  up. 
Prithee,  kind  sir,  can  you  tell  me  where  the  crew  from 
my  vessel  have  gone  to?  " 

"  They  are  at  the  Red  Lion  at  the  end  of  the  vil- 
lage," replied  the  official  of  the  law.  "  You  are,  in- 
deed, badly  hurt." 

"  Wall,  I  reckon,"  replied  the  American,  and,  stum- 
bling up  the  beach,  he  was  soon  headed  for  the  end 
of  the  little  village. 


CAPTAIN   ^^JOSH''   BARNEY     313 

But  things  were  not  to  go  too  well  with  him.  He 
found  that  he  was  obliged  to  pass  the  Red  Lion,  and 
he  had  almost  succeeded  in  doing  so  unmolested,  when 
one  of  the  sailors  who  was  loitering  outside,  cried 
out  after  him, 

"  Ho,  friend !    I  would  speak  with  you !  " 

"  Josh  "  had  to  stop  although  sorely  tempted  to  run 
for  it. 

"  IVe  got  some  idee  of  shippin'  in  th*  Navy,"  said 
the  fellow,  as  he  approached.  "  Now,  friend,  you  can 
tell  me  somethin'  of  th'  pay  an*  service,  as  you're  an 
officer  of  th'  army." 

Barney's  eyes  shone  with  pleasure,  as  he  saw  that 
his  disguise  had  deceived  the  fellow. 

"  Walk  along  with  me  towards  Plymouth,"  said  he, 
"  and  I'll  explain  everything  to  you.  I  have  busi- 
ness there  which  will  not  wait  and  I  must  get  on 
to  it." 

So  they  jogged  along  together,  talking  vigorously 
about  the  Navy,  but,  in  the  course  of  half  an  hour 
the  jack-tar  seemed  to  think  better  of  his  plan  for 
entering  "  a  service  noted  for  its  cruelty  to  seamen," 
and  turned  back,  saying, 

"  Thank'ee  my  fine  friend.  Thank'ee.  I'll  stick  to 
privateerin'.  It's  easier  an'  there's  less  cat-o-nine- 
tails  to  it." 

As  soon  as  his  burly  form  disappeared  down  the 
winding  road,  Barney  began  to  grow  anxious  about 
his  safety.  Perhaps  a  guard  would  be  sent  after  him? 
Perhaps  —  even  now  —  men  had  discovered  his  ab- 
sence and  were  hurrying  to  intercept  him?     So  — 


314      FAMOUS   PRIVATEERSMEN 

with  tliese  thoughts  upon  his  mind  —  he  jumped  over 
a  stiff  hedge  into  the  grounds  of  Lord  Mount-Edge- 
cumbe. 

''  Egad!  it's  touch  and  go  with  me,"  said  he,  as  he 
walked  down  one  of  the  gravelled  paths.  "  I'm  in 
for  it  now  for  here  comes  the  gardener." 

Sure  enough,  towards  him  ambled  a  middle-aged 
fellow,  smiling  as  he  pushed  along  a  wheel-barrow 
filled  with  bulbs. 

Joshua  walked  up  to  him,  extending  his  right 
hand. 

''  My  friend,"  said  he,  "  I  am  an  of^cer  escaping 
from  some  seamen  who  wish  my  life  because  of  a 
duel  in  which  I  recently  engaged  over  the  hand  of  a 
fair  lady.  Here  is  a  guinea.  It  is  all  that  I  possess. 
And  —  if  you  could  but  pilot  me  to  the  waterside  and 
will  not  tell  of  my  whereabouts  —  I  will  bless  you  to 
my  dying  day." 

The  good-humored  man-of-the-soil  smiled  benignly. 

"  Prithee,  but  follow  me,"  said  he,  "  and  we'll  soon 
see  that  you  pass  by  the  way  of  the  water  gate.  Your 
money  is  most  welcome,  sir,  for  my  wife  is  just  now 
ill  and  doctors  must  be  paid,  sir.  That  you  know 
right  well." 

Barney  breathed  easier  as  they  walked  towards  the 
sea;  for  out  of  the  corner  of  his  eye  he  saw  a 
guard  —  sent  to  capture  him  —  tramping  along 
the  other  side  of  the  hedge  over  which  he  had 
leaped. 

"  Good-bye  and  good  luck!  "  cried  the  kind-hearted 
servant  as  he  closed  the  private  gate  which  led  to  the 


CAPTAIN   ^'JOSH"   BARNEY     315 

waterside.  And,  with  a  wave  of  the  hand,  the  fleeing 
American  was  soon  hastening  to  the  winding  river, 
over  which  he  must  cross  in  order  to  get  on  to  Plym- 
outh. 

Luck  was  still  with  him.  A  butcher  who  was  ferry- 
ing some  beeves  by  water,  took  him  in  his  boat,  and, 
as  night  fell,  the  keen-witted  privateersman  crept 
through  the  back  door  of  the  old  clergyman's  house 
at  Plymouth  —  from  which  he  had  started.  For  the 
time  being,  he  was  safe. 

Strange  to  relate,  the  two  friends  of  the  fishing- 
smack  adventure  here  joined  him  once  more,  for  they, 
also,  had  run  away  from  the  crew  of  the  privateer, 
and  —  as  they  sat  around  the  supper-table  —  the  town- 
crier  went  by  the  house,  bawling  in  harsh  and  dis- 
cordant tones : 

"  Five  guineas  reward  for  the  capture  of  Joshua 
Barney;  a  rebel  deserter  from  Mill  Prison!  Five 
guineas  reward  for  this  deserter !  Five  guineas !  Five 
guineas !  " 

But  Barney  stuffed  his  napkin  into  his  mouth  in 
order  to  stop  his  laughter. 

Three  days  later  a  clean-shaven,  bright-cheeked, 
young  dandy  stepped  into  a  post  chaise,  at  midnight, 
and  drove  off  to  Exeter.  At  Plymouth  gate  the  con- 
veyance was  stopped;  a  lantern  was  thrust  into  the 
black  interior;  and  the  keen  eyes  of  the  guard  scanned 
the  visages  of  those  within : 

"  He's  not  here,"  growled  the  watchman,  lowering 
the  light.    "  Drive  on !  " 

Thus  Joshua  Barney  rolled  on  to  home  and  free- 


316      FAMOUS   PEIVATEERSMEN 

dom,  while  the  stout-bodied  soldier  little  guessed  that 
the  artful  privateersman  had  slipped  through  his  fin- 
gers like  water  through  a  sieve. 

Two  months  later  —  in  the  autumn  of  1781  — 
Joshua  Barney:  fighter,  privateer,  liar  and  fugitive, 
walked  down  the  quiet  streets  of  Beverly,  Massachu- 
setts, and  a  little  fish-monger's  son  whispered  to  his 
companions, 

"  Say,  Boys !  That  feller  is  a  Jim  Dandy.  He's 
been  through  more'n  we'll  ever  see.  Say!  He's  a 
regular  Scorcher ! " 

Many  months  later  —  when  the  Revolutionary  War 
had  ended  —  the  good  ship  General  Washington  lay 
in  Plymouth  Harbor  on  the  south  coast  of  England. 
Her  commander  —  Captain  Joshua  Barney  —  gazed 
contentedly  at  the  Stars  and  Stripes  as  they  flew 
jauntily  from  the  mizzen-mast,  and  then  walked  to 
the  rail,  as  a  group  of  British  officers  came  over  the 
side.  But  there  was  one  among  these  guests  who  was 
not  an  officer.  He  was  bent,  old,  weather-beaten; 
and  his  dress  showed  him  to  be  a  tiller  and  worker 
of  the  soil.  It  was  the  aged  and  faithful  gardener  of 
Lord  Mount-Edgecumbe. 

"  You  remember  me  ?  "  cried  the  genial  American, 
grasping  the  honest  servant  by  the  hand. 

The  gardener's  eyes  were  alight  with  pleasure. 

"  You  are  the  feller  who  jumped  over  the  hedge  — 
many  years  ago  —  when  the  sja-dogs  were  hot  upon 
your  trail." 

Joshua  Barney  chuckled. 


CAPTAIN   ^^JOSH''   BAENEY     317 

"  The  same,"  said  he.  "  And  here  is  a  purse  of 
gold  to  reward  my  kind  and  worthy  helpmeet." 

So  saying,  he  placed  a  heavy,  chamois  bag  of  glit- 
tering eagles  into  the  trembling  hands  of  the  ancient 
retainer. 


THE   DERELICT 

Unmoored,  unmanned,   unheeded  on  the  deep  — 
Tossed  by  the  restless  billow  and  the  breeze, 
It  drifts  o'er  sultry  leagues  of  tropic  seas. 
Where  long  Pacific  surges  swell  and  sweep. 
When  pale-faced  stars  their  silent  watches  keep. 
From  their  far  rhythmic  spheres,  the  Pleiades, 
In  calm  beatitude  and  tranquil  ease, 
Smile  sweetly  down  upon  its  cradled  sleep. 
Erewhile,  with  anchor  housed  and  sails  unfurled, 
We  saw  the  stout  ship  breast  the  open  main. 
To  round  the  stormy  Cape,  and  span  the  World, 
In  search  of  ventures  which  betoken  gain. 
To-day,  somewhere,  on  some  far  sea  we  know 
Her  battered  hulk  is  heaving  to  and  fro. 


ROBERT   SURCOUF 
THE   "SEA  HOUND"   FROM    ST.   MALO 

(1773 -1827) 


"If  you  would  be  known  never  to  have  done  anything,  never 
do  it."  —  Emerson. 


ROBERT  SURCOUF 

THE    "SEA    HOUND"    FROM    ST.    MALO 

(1773  - 1827) 

Parles-vous  Frangais?    Yes,  Monsieur, 

I  can  speak  like  a  native,  —  sure. 

Then,  take  oflF  your  cap  to  the  lilies  of  France, 

Throw  it  up  high,  and  hasten  the  dance. 

For  "Bobbie"  Surcouf  has  just  come  to  town, 

Tenez!    He's  worthy  of  wearing  a  crown. 

IT  was  a  sweltering,  hot  day  in  July  and  the  good 
ship  Aurora  swung  lazily  in  the  torpid  waters  of 
the  Indian  Ocean.  Her  decks  fairly  sizzled  in  the 
sun,  and  her  sails  flopped  like  huge  planks  of  wood. 
She  was  becalmed  on  a  sheet  of  molten  brass. 

"  I  can't  stand  this  any  longer,"  said  a  young  fellow 
with  black  hair  and  swarthy  skin.  "  I'm  going  over- 
board." 

From  his  voice  it  was  easy  to  see  he  was  a  French- 
man. 

Hastily  stripping  himself,  he  went  to  the  gangway, 
and  standing  upon  the  steps,  took  a  header  into  the 
oily  brine.    He  did  not  come  up. 

"  Sacre  nom  de  Dieu !  "  cried  a  sailor.  "  Young 
Surcouf  be  no  risen.  Ah !  He  has  been  down  ze  long 
time.    Ah !  Let  us  lower  ze  boat  and  find  heem." 

"Voila!  Voila!"  cried  another.  "He  ees 
drowned ! " 

m 


322      FAMOUS   PEIVATEERSMEN 

Phmkety,  plunk,  splash!  went  a  boat  over  the  side, 
and  in  a  moment  more,  a  half  dozen  sailors  were 
eagerly  looking  into  the  deep,  blue  wash  of  the  ocean. 

"  He  no  there.  I  will  dive  for  heem,"  cried  out  the 
fellow  who  had  first  spoken,  and,  leaping  from  the 
boat,  he  disappeared  from  view. 

In  a  few  moments  he  reappeared,  drawing  the  body 
of  the  first  diver  with  him.  It  was  apparently  help- 
less. The  prostrate  sailor  was  lifted  to  the  deck; 
rubbed,  worked  over,  scrubbed,  —  but  no  signs  of 
life  were  there. 

Meanwhile,  a  Portuguese  Lieutenant,  who  was 
pacing  the  poop,  appeared  to  be  much  pleased  at  what 
took  place. 

"  The  fellow's  dead !  The  beggar's  done  for,  — 
sure.  Overboard  with  the  rascal !  To  the  waves  with 
the  dead  'un !  " 

"  Give  us  a  few  more  moments,"  cried  the  sailors. 
"He  will  come  to !'^ 

But  the  Lieutenant  smiled  satirically. 

"  To  the  waves  with  the  corpse !  To  the  sharks 
with  the  man  from  St.  Malo !  "  cried  he. 

And  all  of  this  the  senseless  seaman  heard  —  for  — 
he  was  in  a  cataleptic  fit,  where  he  could  hear,  but 
could  not  move.  The  Portuguese  Lieutenant  and  he 
were  bitter  enemies. 

"  Oh,  I  tell  you.  Boys,  the  fellow's  dead !  "  again 
cried  the  Portuguese.     "  Over  with  him !  " 

So  saying,  he  seized  the  inert  body  with  his  hands; 
dragged  it  to  the  ship's  side;  and  started  to  lift  it  to 
the  rail. 


ROBERT    SURCOUF  323 

Conscious  of  all  that  went  on  around  him,  the  para- 
lyzed Surcouf  realized  that,  unless  he  could  make  some 
sign,  he  had  only  a  few  seconds  to  live.  So,  with  a 
tremendous  effort  —  he  made  a  movement  of  his  limbs. 
It  was  noticed. 

"  Voila !  Voila !  "  cried  a  French  sailor.  "  He  ees 
alife.     No !    No !    You  cannot  kill  heem !  " 

Running  forward,  he  grabbed  the  prostrate  form  of 
Robert  Surcouf,  pulled  it  back  upon  the  deck,  and  — 
as  the  Portuguese  Lieutenant  went  off .  cursing  —  he 
rubbed  the  cold  hands  of  the  half-senseless  man.  In  a 
moment  the  supposed  corpse  had  opened  its  eyes. 

"  Ah !  "  he  whispered.  "  I  had  a  close  call.  A  thou- 
sand thanks  to  all !  " 

In  five  more  moments  he  could  stand  upon  the  deck, 
and  —  believe  me  —  he  did  not  forget  the  Portuguese 
Lieutenant ! 

Robert  Surcouf  was  born  at  St.  Malo  —  just  one 
hundred  years  after  Du  Guay  Trouin,  to  whom  he 
was  related.  And  like  his  famous  relative  he  had  been 
intended  for  the  Church,  —  but  he  was  always  fight- 
ing; was  insubordinate,  and  could  not  be  made  to 
^tudy.  In  fact,  he  was  what  is  known  as  a  "  holy 
terror." 

Finally  good  Mamma  Surcouf  sent  him  to  the  Sem- 
inary of  St.  Dinan,  saying: 

''  Now,  Robert,  be  a  good  boy  and  study  hard  thy 
lessons ! '' 

And  Robert  said,  "  Oui,  Madame!  "  But  he  would 
not  work. 

One  day  the  master  in  arithmetic  did  not  like  the 


324      FAMOUS   PBIVATEERSMEN 

method  in  which  young  "  Bobbie "  answered  him, 
and  raising  a  cane,  he  ran  towards  the  youthful 
scholar.  But  Robert  had  learned  a  kind  of  "  Jiu- 
jitsu  "  practiced  by  the  youths  of  France,  and  he 
tackled  his  irate  master  like  an  end-rush  upon  the 
foot-ball  team,  when  he  dives  for  a  runner.  Both  fell 
to  the  ground  with  a  thud.  And  all  the  other  boys 
yelled  "  Fine !  "  in  unison. 

Now  was  a  fierce  battle,  but  weight  told,  and 
*'  Bobbie  "  was  soon  underneath,  with  his  teeth  in  the 
leg  of  his  tutor.  They  scratched  and  rolled  until 
"  Bobbie  "  freed  himself,  and,  running  to  the  window, 
jumped  outside  —  for  he  was  on  the  ground  floor  — 
scaled  the  garden  fence,  and  made  off.  Home  was 
twenty  miles  away. 

"  I  must  get  there,  somehow,"  said  young  "  Bobbie." 
"  I  can  never  go  back.  I  will  be  spanked  so  that  I 
cannot  seat  myself." 

So  little  '*  Bob  "  trudged  onward  in  the  snow,  for 
it  was  winter.  '  It  grew  dark.  It  was  bitterly  cold,  and 
he  had  no  hat.  At  length  —  worn  out  with  cold  and 
hunger  —  he  sank  senseless  to  the  roadside. 

Luck  pursues  those  destined  for  greatness. 

Some  fish-merchants  happened  that  way,  and,  see- 
ing the  poor,  helpless,  little  boy,  they  picked  him  up ; 
placed  him  upon  a  tiny  dog-cart;  and  carried  him  to 
St.  Malo,  where  he  had  a  severe  attack  of  pneumonia. 
But  his  good  mother  nursed  him  through,  saying : 

"  Ta  done !  He  will  never  be  a  scholar.  Ta  done ! 
Young  Robbie  must  go  to  sea !  " 

So  when  "  Bobbie  "  was  well  he  was  shipped  aboard 


ROBERT   SURCOUF  325 

the  brig  Heron,  bound  for  Cadiz,  Spain  —  and  he  was 
only  just  thirteen.     But  he  threw  up  his  cap  crying, 

'*  This  is  just  what  I've  always  wanted.  Hurrah 
for  the  salty  brine !  " 

At  about  twenty  years  of  age  we  find  him  upon  the 
good  ship  Aurora  from  which  his  dive  into  the  Indian 
Ocean  came  near  being  his  last  splash.  And  the  Por- 
tuguese Lieutenant  did  not  forget. 

Upon  the  next  visit  of  the  cruiser  Aurora  to  the 
coast  of  Africa  an  epidemic  of  malarial  fever  struck 
the  crew.  Among  those  who  succumbed  to  the  disease 
was  the  Portuguese  Lieutenant.  He  was  dangerously 
ill. 

The  ship  arrived  at  the  island  of  Mauritius,  and, 
Lieutenant  Robert  Surcouf  was  just  going  ashore, 
when  he  received  a  message  which  said: 

"  Come  and  see  me.  I  am  very  ill."  It  was  from 
his  enemy,  —  the  Portuguese. 

Surcouf  did  not  like  the  idea,  but  after  thinking  the 
matter  over,  he  went.  But  note  this,  — ■  he  had  a  pair 
of  loaded  pistols  in  his  pocket.  Dead  men  —  you  know 
—  tell  no  tales. 

As  he  entered  the  sick  man's  cabin,  a  servant  was 
there.    The  Portuguese  made  a  sign  to  him  to  retire. 

"  I  wish  to  speak  to  you  with  a  sincere  heart,"  said 
he,  turning  his  face  to  young  Surcouf.  "  Before  I  pass 
from  this  world  I  want  to  relieve  my  conscience,  and 
ask  your  forgiveness  for  all  the  evil  which  I  have 
wished  you  during  our  voyages  together." 

"  I  bear  you  no  malice,"  said  Surcouf.  "  Let  by- 
gones be  by-gones." 


326      FAMOUS   PRIVATEERSMEN 

As  he  spoke  a  spasm  seemed  to  contort  the  body  of 
the  dying  man.  One  arm  stretched  out  towards  a 
pillow  nearby,  and  Robert  had  a  sudden,  but  excellent 
thought.  Stepping  forward,  he  seized  the  hand  of  his 
old  enemy,  lifted  the  pillow,  and,  then  started  back 
with  an  exclamation  of  astonishment. 

"  Ye  Gods !  "  cried  he.     "  You  would  murder  me !  " 

There,  before  him,  were  two  cocked  and  loaded 
pistols. 

Leaping  forward  he  grabbed  the  weapons,  pointing 
one  at  the  forehead  of  the  rascally  sailor. 

"  You  miserable  beast !  "  cried  he.  *'  I  can  now 
shoot  you  like  a  dog,  or  squash  you  like  an  insect; 
but  I  despise  you  too  much.  I  will  leave  you  to  die 
like  a  coward.*' 

'*  And,"  says  a  historian,  "  this  is  what  the  wretched 
man  did,  —  blaspheming  in  despairing  rage." 

In  October,  1794,  Lieutenant  Surcouf  saw  his  first 
big  battle,  for,  the  English  being  at  war  with  the 
French,  two  British  men-of-war  hovered  oflf  the  island 
of  Mauritius,  blockading  the  port  of  St.  Thomas. 
They  were  the  Centurion  of  fifty-four  guns,  and  the 
Diomede,  also  of  fifty-four  cannon,  but  with  fewer 
tars.  The  French  had  four  ships  of  war:  the  Pru- 
dente,  forty  guns ;  the  Cybele,  forty-four  guns ;  the 
Jean  Bart,  twenty  guns;  and  the  Courier,  fourteen 
guns.  Surcouf  was  Junior  Lieutenant  aboard  the 
Cybele. 

It  was  a  beautiful,  clear  day,  as  the  French  vessels 
ploughed  out  to  battle;  their  sails  aquiver  with  the 
soft  breeze;    their  pennons  fluttering;   guns  flashing; 


KOBERT   SURCOUF  327 

and  eager  sailors  crowding  to  the  rails  with  cutlasses 
newly  sharpened  and  pistols  in  their  sashes. 

Boom! 

The  first  gun  spoke.  The  first  shell  spun  across  the 
bow  of  the  British  bull-dog  Diomede,  and  the  battle 
was  on. 

Have  you  ever  seen  a  school  of  pollock  chasing  a 
school  of  smaller  fry?  Have  you  ever  seen  them 
jump  and  splash,  and  thud  upon  the  surface  of  the 
water  ? 

Well  —  that  is  the  way  that  the  shells  looked  and 
sounded  —  as  they  plumped  and  slushed  into  the  sur- 
face of  the  southern  sea ;  and  every  now  and  then  there 
was  a  punk,  and  a  crash,  and  a  chug,  as  a  big,  iron  ball 
bit  into  the  side  of  a  man-of-war. 

Around  and  around  sailed  the  sparring  assailants, 
each  looking  for  a  chance  to  board.  Crash!  Roar! 
Crash!  growled  the  broadsides.  Shrill  screams 
sounded  from  the  wounded;  the  harsh  voices  of  the 
officers  echoed  above  the  din  of  the  conflict;  and,  the 
whining  bugle  squealed  ominously  between  the  roar- 
ing crush  of  grape  and  chain-shot. 

But  the  French  got  nearer  and  nearer.  Great  gaps 
showed  in  the  bulwarks  of  the  Diomede;  one  mast 
was  tottering.  Beaten  and  outnumbered  she  stood  out 
to  sea,  her  sailors  crowding  into  the  rigging  like 
monkeys,  and  spreading  every  stitch  of  white  canvas. 

"  She  runs !  Egad,  she  runs !  "  cried  the  Com- 
mander of  the  other  British  vessel.  "  Faith,  I  cannot 
stand  off  four  Frenchmen  alone.  I  must  after  her 
to  save  my  scalp." 


328      FAMOUS   PRIVATEERSMBN 

So  —  putting  his  helm  hard  over  —  he  threw  his 
vessel  before  the  wind,  and  she  spun  off,  pursued  by 
bouncing  shells  and  shrieking  grapnel. 

"Voila!"  cried  the  French.  "  Ze  great  battaile, 
eet  belongs  to  us !  "  But  there  were  many  dead  and 
wounded  upon  the  decks  of  the  proud  French  war- 
ships. 

Soon  after  this  smart,  little  affair  the  soldiers  and 
sailors  who  had  been  in  this  fight  were  discharged,  — 
and  —  looking  about  for  employment,  young  Robert 
took  the  first  position  that  presented  itself :  the  com- 
mand of  the  brig  Creole,  —  engaged  in  the  slave  trade. 
He  made  several  successful  voyages,  but  orders  were 
issued  to  — 

"  Arrest  the  Slave  Hunter  and  all  his  crew, 
When  they  arrive  at  the  Mauritius." 

One  of  those  little  birds  which  sometimes  carry 
needed  information,  both  on  sea  and  land,  whispered 
this  ill  news  to  the  gallant,  young  sea-dog.  So  he 
steered  for  the  isle  of  Bourbon,  and  there  landed  his 
human  freight  in  a  small  bay.  At  daybreak  he  lay  at 
anchor  in  the  Harbor  of  St.  Paul  in  that  self-same 
island. 

About  eight  in  the  morning  a  boat  was  seen  ap- 
proaching, and  to  the  hail,  —  "  Who  goes  there  ?  " 
came  the  reply  — 

"Public  Health  Committee  from  St.  Denis.  We 
wish  to  come  on  board  and  to  inspect  your  ship." 

Surcouf  was  much  annoyed. 


ROBERT   SURCOUF  329 

*'  You  can  climb  aboard,"  said  he,  stifling  an  ex- 
clamation of  disgust.     "  I  am  at  your  service." 

In  a  few  moments  the  commissioners  were  upon  the 
deck,  and,  in  a  few  moments  more,  they  had  discovered 
that  the  ship  was  a  slaver. 

Turning  to  the  youthful  captain,  one  of  the  commit- 
tee said : 

'*  You,  sir,  are  engaged  in  illegal  traffic.  You  must 
suffer  for  this,  and  must  come  with  us  at  once  to  the 
city  to  answer  an  indictment  drawn  up  against  you." 

Surcouf  smiled  benignly. 

'*  I  am  at  your  service,"  said  he,  with  a  polite  bow. 
"  But  do  not  go  —  I  pray  thee  —  until  you  have  given 
me  the  great  pleasure  of  partaking  of  the  breakfast 
which  my  cook  has  hastily  prepared." 

The  Committee-men  smiled. 

"  You  are  very  kind,"  said  one.  "  We  accept  with 
pleasure." 

The  hasty  efforts  of  the  cook  proved  to  be  most 
attractive.  And,  as  the  Commissioners  smacked  their 
lips  over  the  good  Madeira  wine,  the  mate  of  the  Creole 
dismissed  the  boat  which  had  brought  the  stolid  Com- 
missioners to  the  side. 

"  The  tender  of  our  brig  will  take  your  people 
ashore,"  said  he  to  the  coxswain. 

No  sooner  had  this  tender  neared  the  shore,  than  the 
cable  of  the  Creole  was  slipped ;  she  left  her  anchorage; 
and  quickly  drew  out  to  sea  in  a  fresh  sou' westerly 
breeze. 

The  unaccustomed  rallying  soon  warned  the  Com- 
missioners that  the  vessel  was  no  longer  at  anchor, 


330      FAMOUS   PEIVATEERSMEN 

and,  rushing  to  the  deck,  they  saw  —  with  dismay  — 
that  a  full  half  mile  of  foam-flecked  ocean  lay  between 
them  and  the  island. 

"Ye  Gods!"  cried  one,  turning  to  Surcouf. 
"  What  mean  you  by  this,  sir?  " 

The  crafty  Captain  was  smiling  like  the  Cheshire 
cat. 

"  You  are  now  in  my  power,"  said  he  —  very 
slowly  and  deliberately.  "  I  am  going  to  take  you 
to  the  coast  of  Africa  among  your  friends  —  the 
negroes.  You  seem  to  prefer  them  to  the  whites,  so 
why  not,  pray  ?  Meanwhile,  —  my  kind  sirs,  —  come 
below  and  take  my  orders." 

The  Commissioners  were  flabber-gasted. 

"  Pirate !  "  cried  one. 

"Thief!"  cried  another. 

"  Scamp !  "  shouted  the  third. 

But  they  went  below,  —  mumbling  many  an  impre- 
cation upon  the  head  of  the  crafty  Robert  Surcouf. 

That  night  the  wind  freshened,  the  waves  rose,  and 
the  good  ship  Creole  pitched  and  tossed  upon  them, 
like  a  leaf.  The  Committeemen  were  very  ill,  for  they 
were  landsmen,  and  Surcouf's  smile  expanded. 

"Take  us  ashore!  Take  us  ashore!"  cried  one. 
"  We  must  get  upon  land." 

Surcouf  even  laughed.  Everything  was  as  he 
wished. 

"  I  will  land  you  upon  one  condition  only,"  said  he. 
"  Destroy  the  indictment  against  me  and  my  ship. 
Write  a  document  to  the  effect  that  you  have  found 
no  traces  of  slaves  upon  my  staunch  craft.     Say  that 


ROBERT    SURCOUP  331 

my  boat  was  driven  from  her  anchor  by  a  tidal  wave 
—  and  you  can  put  your  feet  upon  solid  ground." 

The  three  Commissioners  scowled,  but  he  had  them. 
Besides  they  were  sea-sick. 

In  an  hour's  time,  the  desired  paper  had  been  drawn 
up.  The  Creole  was  headed  for  the  Mauritius,  —  and, 
in  eight  days,  the  sad  but  wiser  Commissioners  were 
brooding  over  the  smartness  of  Robert  Surcouf  when 
seated  in  their  own  snug  little  homes.  "  He  is  a  ras- 
cal," said  one.     "  He's  a  slick  and  wily  cur." 

So  much  reputation  came  to  the  young  mariner  — 
at  this  exploit  —  that  he  was  soon  offered  the  com- 
mand of  the  Emilic:  a  privateer  of  one  hundred  and 
eighty  tons  and  four  guns.  He  accepted  with  glee, 
but  when  about  to  go  to  sea,  the  Governor  refused 
him  Letters  of  Marque. 

"What  shall  I  do?"  asked  the  crest-fallen  Rob- 
ert, approaching  the  owners  of  the  trim  and  able 
craft. 

"  Sail  for  the  Seychelles  (Islands  off  the  east  coast 
of  Africa)  for  a  cargo  of  turtles,"  said  they.  "  If  you 
fail  to  find  these;  fill  up  with  corn,  cotton  and  fruit. 
Fight  shy  of  all  English  cruisers,  and  battle  if  you 
have  to." 

Surcouf  bowed. 

"  I  am  not  a  regular  privateer,"  he  answered.  "  For 
I  have  no  Letters  of  Marque.  But  I  can  defend  myself 
if  fired  upon,  and  am  an  armed  vessel  in  war-time.  I 
may  yet  see  some  fighting." 

He  was  not  to  be  disappointed. 

While  at  anchor  at  the  Seychelles,  two  large  and  fat 


332      FAMOUS   PRIVATEERSMEN 

English  men-of-war  appeared  in  the  offing.  Surcouf 
had  to  run  for  it. 

Steering  in  among  the  many  Httle  islets,  which  here 
abound,  he  navigated  the  dangerous  channels  and  got 
safely  off,  his  men  crying, 

"  Voila !  Here  is  a  genius.  We  did  well  to  ship 
with  such  a  master!" 

But  the  gallant  Surcouf  soon  turned  from  privateer 
to  pirate. 

South  of  the  Bay  of  Bengal,  a  cyclone  struck  the 
Etnilie  and  she  was  steered  for  Rangoon,  where  — 

"  The  flying  fishes  play, 
An'  the  dawn  comes   up  like  thunder, 
Outer  China  across  the  Bay." 

And  here  a  British  vessel  steered  for  her:  white- 
winged,  saucy,  vindictive-looking. 

She  came  on  valiantly,  and,  when  within  a  hun- 
dred yards,  pumped  a  shot  across  the  bow  of  the 
drowsing  Emilie.     It  meant  "  Show  your  colors." 

Hoisting  the  red,  white  and  blue  of  France,  Sur- 
couf replied  with  three  scorching  shots.  One  struck 
the  Britisher  amid-ships,  and  pumped  a  hole  in  her 
black  boarding. 

Like  a  timid  girl,  the  Englishman  veered  off, 
hoisted  her  top-sail,  and  tried  to  get  away.  She  saw 
that  she  had  caught  a  tartar. 

The  blood  was  up  of  the  "  Man  from  St.  Malo."  "  I 
consider  the  shot  across  my  bows  as  an  attack,"  said 
he,  and  he  slapped  on  every  stitch  of  canvas,  so  that 
the  Emilie  was  soon  abreast  of  the  Britisher.    Boom! 


ROBEET   SURCOUF  333 

A  broadside  roared  into  her  and  she  struck  her  colors. 
Bold  Robert  Surcouf  had  passed  the  Rubicon,  —  he 
had  seen  the  English  flag  lowered  to  him,  for  the  first 
time;  and  his  heart  swelled  with  patriotic  pride,  in 
spite  of  the  fact  that  this  was  an  act  of  piracy,  for 
which  he  could  be  hanged  to  the  yard-arm. 

"  On !  On !  "  cried  Surcouf.  "  More  captures ! 
More  prizes !  " 

Three  days  later  three  vessels  carrying  rice  fell  into 
his  hands,  —  one  of  which,  —  a  pilot-brig  —  was  ap- 
propriated in  place  of  the  Emilie,  which  had  a  foul, 
barnacled  bottom  and  had  lost  her  speed.  The  Diana, 
another  rice-carrier  —  was  also  captured  —  and  Rob- 
ert Surcouf  headed  for  the  Mauritius:  pleased  and 
happy. 

A  few  days  later,  as  the  vessels  pottered  along  off 
the  river  Hooghly,  the  cry  came : 

"  A  large  sail  standing  into  Balasore  Roads !  " 

In  a  moment  Surcouf  had  clapped  his  glass  to  his 
keen  and  searching  eye. 

"An  East  Indiaman/'  said  he.  "And  rich,  I'll 
warrant.  Ready  about  and  make  after  her.  She's  too 
strong  for  us,  —  that  I  see  —  but  we  may  outwit 
her." 

The  vessel,  in  fact,  was  the  Triton,  with  six-and- 
twenty  guns  and  a  strong  crew.  Surcouf  had  but 
nineteen  men  aboard,  including  the  surgeon  and  him- 
self, and  a  few  Lascars,  —  natives.  The  odds  were 
heavily  against  him,  but  his  nerve  was  as  adamant. 

"  My  own  boat  has  been  a  pilot-brig.  Up  with  the 
pilot  flag !  "  he  cried. 


334      FAMOUS   PRIVATEERSMEN 

As  the  little  piece  of  bunting  fluttered  in  the  breeze, 
the  Triton  hove  to,  and  waited  for  him,  as  unsuspect- 
ing as  could  be.     Surcouf  chuckled. 

Nearer  and  nearer  came  his  own  vessel  to  the  lolling 
Indiaman,  and,  as  she  rolled  within  hailing  distance, 
the  bold  French  sea-dog  saw  ''  beaucoup  de  monde  "  — 
a  great  crowd  of  people  —  upon  the  deck  of  the  Eng- 
lishman. 

"  My  lads !  "  cried  he,  turning  to  his  crew.  "  This 
Triton  is  very  strong.  We  are  only  nineteen.  Shall 
we  try  to  take  her  by  surprise  and  thus  acquire  both 
gain  and  glory  ?  Or,  do  you  prefer  to  rot  in  a  beastly 
English  prison-ship  ?  " 

*'  Death  or  victory !  "  cried  the  Frenchmen. 

Surcouf  smiled. 

"  This  ship  shall  either  be  our  tomb,  or  the  cradle 
of  our  glory,"  said  he.     "  It  is  well !  " 

The  crew  and  passengers  of  the  Triton  saw  only  a 
pilot-brig  approaching,  as  these  did  habitually  (to 
within  twenty  or  thirty  feet)  in  order  to  transfer  the 
pilot.  Suddenly  a  few  uttered  exclamations  of  surprise 
and  dismay.  The  French  colors  rose  to  the  mast  of 
the  sorrowful-looking  pilot-boat,  and  with  a  flash  and 
a  roar,  a  heavy  dose  of  canister  and  grape  ploughed 
into  the  unsuspecting  persons  upon  the  deck  of  the 
Indiaman.  Many  sought  shelter  from  the  hail  of 
iron. 

A  moment  more,  and  the  brig  was  alongside.  A 
crunching ;  a  splitting  of  timber  as  the  privateer  struck 
and  ground  into  the  bulwarks  of  the  Triton,  and,  with 
a  wild  yell  —  Surcouf  leaped  upon  the  deck  of  his 


ROBERT   SURCOUF  335 

adversary  —  followed  by  his  eighteen  men,  with  cut- 
lass, dirks  and  pistols. 

There  was  but  little  resistance.  The  Captain  of 
the  Triton  seized  a  sword  and  made  a  vain  attempt  to 
stem  the  onslaught  of  the  boarders,  but  he  was  imme- 
diately cut  down.  The  rest  were  driven  below,  and 
the  hatches  clapped  tight  above  them.  In  five  minutes 
the  affair  was  over,  with  five  killed  and  six  wounded 
Upon  the  side  of  the  English:  one  killed  and  one 
wounded  among  the  French.  Surcouf  had  made  a 
master  stroke.     The  Triton  was  his  own. 

The  many  prisoners  were  placed  on  board  the  Diana 
and  allowed  to  make  their  way  to  Calcutta,  but  the 
Triton  was  triumphantly  steered  to  the  Mauritius, 
where  Surcouf  received  a  tremendous  ovation. 

''  Hurrah  for  Robert  Surcouf :  the  sea-hound  from 
St.  Malo !  "  shrieked  the  townsfolk. 

''  Your  captures  are  all  condemned,"  said  the  Gov- 
ernor of  the  island,  a  few  days  after  his  triumphant 
arrival.  "  For  you  sailed  and  fought  not  under  a 
Letter  of  Marque,  so  you  are  a  pirate  and  not  a  pri- 
vateer. Those  who  go  a-pirating  must  pay  the  piper. 
Your  prizes  belong  to  the  Government  of  France,  and 
its  representative.    I  hereby  seize  them." 

Surcouf  was  nonplussed. 

"  We  will  take  this  matter  to  France,  itself,"  cried 
he.  "  And  we  shall  see  whether  or  no  all  my  exertions 
shall  go  for  nought." 

So  the  case  was  referred  to  the  French  courts,  where 
Robert  appeared  in  person  to  plead  his  cause.  And 
the  verdict  was : 


336      FAMOUS  PRIVATEERSMEN 

"  The  captures  of  Captain  Robert  Surcouf  of  St. 
Malo  are  all  declared  '  good  prize  '  and  belong  to  him 
and  the  owners  of  his  vessel." 

So  the  wild  man  from  St.  Malo  was  very  happy,  and 
he  and  his  owners  pocketed  a  good,  round  sum  of 
money.  But  he  really  was  a  pirate  and  not  a  privateer. 
Tenez!  He  had  the  money,  at  any  rate,  so  why  should 
he  care  ? 

The  remaining  days  of  Robert's  life  were  full  of 
battle,  and,  just  a  little  love,  for  he  returned  to  his 
native  town  —  during  the  progress  of  the  law-suit  — 
in  order  to  see  his  family  and  his  friends,  and  there 
became  engaged  to  Mile.  Marie  Blaize,  who  was  as 
good  as  she  was  pretty.  But  the  sea  sang  a  song  which 
ran: 

"  For  men  must  work  and  women  must  weep, 
The  home  of  a  hero  is  on  the  deep." 

which  the  stout  sea-dog  could  not  resist.  So  he  left 
the  charming  demoiselle  without  being  married,  and 
'tis  said  that  she  wept  bitterly. 

Now  came  his  greatest  exploit. 

On  October  7th,  1800,  the  hardy  mariner  —  in  com- 
mand of  the  Confiance;  a  new  vessel  with  one  hundred 
and  thirty  souls  aboard  —  was  cruising  off  the  Indian 
coast.  He  had  a  Letter  of  Marque  this  time,  so  all 
would  go  well  with  him  if  he  took  a  prize.  The  oppor- 
tunity soon  came.  A  sail  was  sighted  early  that 
day,  and  Surcouf  scanned  her  carefully  through  his 
glass. 

"  She's  a  rich  prize,"  said  he.    '*  An  Indiaman.    All 


SURCOUF    SCANNED    HER    CAREFULLY    THROUGH    HIS    GLASS. 


ROBERT   SURCOUF  337 

hands  on  deck.  Make  sail!  Drinks  all  round  for  the 
men !    Clear  for  action !  " 

He  spoke  this  to  himself,  for  he  was  aloft,  and, 
climbing  to  the  deck,  ordered  everybody  aft  to  listen 
to  a  speech.  When  they  had  collected  there,  he  said, 
with  feeling: 

"  I  suppose  each  one  of  you  is  more  than  equal  to 
one  Englishman  ?  Very  good  —  be  armed  and  ready 
for  boarding  —  and,  as  it  is  going  to  be  hot  work,  I'll 
give  you  one  hour  for  pillage.  You  can  fight,  and, 
behind  me,  you  should  be  invincible !  Strike,  and  strike 
hard ;  and  you  will  be  rich." 

The  Kent  had  four  hundred  and  thirty-seven  souls 
aboard,  says  an  old  chronicler,  for  she  had  picked  up 
a  great  part  of  the  crew  of  the  Queen:  an  East  India- 
man  which  had  been  destroyed  off  the  coast  of  Brazil. 
Her  Captain's  name  was  Rivington  and  he  was  a  fellow 
of  heroic  courage. 

As  the  Con  fiance  drew  near,  the  crew  of  the  English- 
man gave  her  a  fair  broadside  and  pumped  gun  after 
gun  into  her  hull.  But  the  Frenchman  held  her  fire, 
and  bore  in  close,  in  order  to  grapple.  Hoarse  shouts 
sounded  above  the  roar  of  the  guns  and  the  splitting 
of  timber,  as  the  two  war-dogs  closed  for  action.  The 
crew  of  the  Kent  were  poorly  armed  and  undisciplined : 
they  had  never  fought  together.  With  Surcouf  it  was 
far  different.  His  sailors  were  veterans  —  they  had 
boarded  many  a  merchantman  and  privateer  before  — 
and,  they  were  well  used  to  this  gallant  pastime.  Be- 
sides, each  had  a  boarding-axe,  a  cutlass,  —  pistol  and 
a  dagger  —  to  say  nothing  of  a  blunderbuss  loaded 


338      FAMOUS   PRIVATEERSMEN 

with  six  bullets,  pikes  fifteen  feet  long,  and  enormous 
clubs  —  all  of  this  with  "drinks  all  round"  and  the 
promise  of  pillage.    No  wonder  they  could  fight ! 

With  a  wild,  ear-splitting  whoop  the  wild  men  of 
the  French  privateer  finally  leaped  over  the  rail  —  upon 
the  deck  of  the  Englishman  —  and  there  was  fierce 
struggling  for  possession  of  her.  At  the  head  of  his 
men,  Rivington  fought  like  a  true  Briton,  —  cutlass  in 
hand,  teeth  clinched,  eyes  to  the  front.  He  was  mag- 
nificent. 

But  what  could  one  man  do  against  many  ? 

Back,  back,  the  French  forced  the  valiant  lion,  while 
his  crew  fell  all  about  in  tiers,  and,  at  length,  they 
drove  him  to  the  poop.  He  was  bleeding  from  many 
a  wound.    He  was  fast  sinking. 

**  Don't  give  up  the  ship !  "  he  cried,  casting  his  eye 
aloft  at  the  red  ensign  of  his  country. 

Then  he  fell  upon  his  face,  and  the  maddened  fol- 
lowers of  Surcouf  swept  over  the  decking  like  followers 
of  Attila,  the  terrible  Hun. 

"  Spare  the  women !  "  shouted  the  French  Captain 
above  the  din  and  roar  of  battle.  "  Pillage ;  but  spare 
the  women ! " 

It  was  well  that  he  had  spoken,  for  his  cut-throats 
were  wild  with  the  heat  of  battle.  In  twenty  minutes 
the  Kent  was  helpless ;  her  crew  were  prisoners ;  and 
the  saucy  pennon  of  France  fluttered  where  once  had 
waved  the  proud  ensign  of  Great  Britain. 

Surcouf  was  happy.  Landing  the  English  prisoners 
in  an  Arab  vessel,  he  arrived  at  the  Mauritius  with  his 
prize  in  November,  and  soon  took  his  doughty  Con- 


ROBEET   SURCOUF  339 

fiance  to  the  low  shores  of  France,  catching  a  Portu- 
guese merchant  en  route,  and  anchoring  at  La 
Rochelle,  on  April  13th,  1801. 

Rich,  famous,  respected;  he  now  married  the  good 
Mile.  Marie  Blaize,  and  became  the  owner  of  priva- 
teers and  a  respected  citizen  of  the  Fatherland.  For- 
tune had  favored  this  brave  fellow. 

As  a  prosperous  ship-owner  and  ship-builder  of  his 
native  village  —  "  the  Sea-Hound  of  St.  Malo  "  — 
closed  his  adventurous  life  in  the  year  1827.  And 
when  he  quietly  passed  away,  the  good  housewives 
used  to  mutter: 

"  Look  you !  Here  was  a  man  who  fought  the  Eng- 
lish as  well  as  they  themselves  could  fight.  He  was 
a  true  son  of  William  the  Conqueror.  Look  you! 
This  was  a  King  of  the  Ocean !  " 

And  the  gulls  wheeled  over  the  grave  of  the  doughty 
sea-warrior,  shrieking, 

^*He-did-it!    He-did-it!    He-did-it!" 


THE   CRY    FROM    THE   SHORE 

Come  down,  ye  greyhound  mariners, 

Unto  the  wasting  shore ! 

The  morning  winds  are  up,  —  the  Gods 

Bid  me  to  dream  no  more. 

Come,  tell  me  whither  I  must  sail, 

What  peril  there  may  be, 

Before  I  take  my  life  in  hand 

And  venture  out  to  sea! 

We  may  not  tell  thee  where  to  sail, 
Nor  what  the  dangers  are; 
Each  sailor  soundeth  for  himself. 
Each  hath  a  separate  star; 
Each  sailor  soundeth  for  himself, 
And  on  the  awful  sea. 
What  we  have  learned  is  ours  alone; 
We  may  not  tell  it  thee. 

Come  back,  O  ghostly  mariners. 
Ye  who  have  gone  before ! 
I  dread  the  dark,  tempestuous  tides; 
I  dread  the  farthest  shore. 
Tell  me  the  secret  of  the  waves; 
Say  what  my  fate  shall  be, — 
Quick!    for  the  mighty  winds  are  up. 
And  will  not  wait  for  me. 

Hail  and  farewell,  O  voyager! 

Thyself  must  read  the  waves; 

What  we  have  learned  of  sun  and  storm 

Lies  with  us  in  our  graves; 

What  we  have  learned  of  sun  and  storm 

Is  ours  alone  to  know. 

The  winds  are  blozving  out  to  sea. 

Take  up  thy  life  and  go! 


LAFITTE 

PRIVATEER,   PIRATE,   AND   TERROR   OF 

THE   GULF   OF   MEXICO 

(1780 -1826) 


For  it's  fourteen  men  on  a  dead  man's  chest, 
Yo,  ho,  ho,  and  a  bottle  of  rum." 

—  Stevenson. 


LAFITTE 

PRIVATEER,    PIRATE,    AND    TERROR  OF 

THE  GULF  OF   MEXICO 

(1780 -1826) 

"  He  was  the  mildest  mannered  man. 
That  ever  scuttled  ship  or  cut  a  throat ; 
With  such  true  breeding  of  a  gentleman, 
That  you  could  ne'er  discern  his  proper  thought. 
Pity  he  loved  an  adventurous  life's  variety, 
He  was  so  great  a  loss  to  good  society." 

—  Old  Ballad.  ^iSiO. 

"  X^APTAIN,  we  can't  live  much  longer  unless 

1       i  we  have   food.     We've  got  enough  to  last 

us   for  two  weeks'  time,  and  then  —  if  we 

do  not  get  fresh  provisions  —  we'll  have  to  eat  the 

sails." 

The  fellow  who  spoke  was  a  rough-looking  sea-dog, 
with  a  yellow  face  —  parched  and  wrinkled  by  many 
years  of  exposure  —  a  square  figure ;  a  red  handker- 
chief tied  about  his  black  hair;  a  sash  about  his  waist 
in  which  w^as  stuck  a  brace  of  evil-barrelled  pistols. 
He  looked  grimly  at  the  big-boned  man  before  him. 

"  Yes.  You  are  right,  as  usual,  Gascon.  We've 
got  to  strike  a  foreign  sail  before  the  week  is  out,  and 
capture  her.  And  I,  Lafitte,  must  turn  from  privateer 
to  pirate.  May  my  good  mother  at  St.  Malo  have 
mercy  on  my  soul." 

343 


344      FAMOUS   PRIVATEERSMEN 

And,  so  saying,  he  turned  to  pace  restlessly  upon  the 
sloping  deck  of  the  two-hundred-ton  barque  which 
boiled  along  under  a  spread  of  bellying  canvas,  and 
was  guided  by  the  keen  eye  of  this  youthful  mariner. 
He  came  from  the  same  little  town  in  France  which 
sheltered  the  good  mother  of  Du  Guay  Trouin,  the 
great  French  "  blue."     His  name  was  Jean  Lafitte. 

This  sea-rover  had  been  born  in  1781,  and  had  taken 
to  the  ocean  at  the  age  of  thirteen,  when  most  boys  are 
going  to  boarding-school.  After  several  voyages  in 
Europe,  and  to  the  coast  of  Africa,  he  was  appointed 
mate  of  a  French  East  Indiaman,  bound  to  Madras  in 
India.  But  things  did  not  go  any  too  well  with  the 
sturdy  ship;  a  heavy  gale  struck  her  off  the  Cape  of 
Good  Hope ;  she  sprung  her  mainmast,  and  —  flop- 
ping along  like  a  huge  sea-turtle  —  staggered  into  the 
port  of  St.  Thomas  in  the  island  of  Mauritius,  ofT  the 
east  coast  of  Africa. 

"  Here,"  said  young  Lafitte  to  his  Captain,  "  is 
where  I  leave  you,  for  you  are  a  bully,  a  braggart,  and 
a  knave." 

And,  so  saying,  he  cut  for  shore  in  the  jolly-boat, 
but  —  if  the  truth  must  be  known  —  Lafitte  and  the 
Captain  were  too  much  alike  to  get  on  together.  They 
both  wished  to  "be  boss."  Like  magnets  do  not  at- 
tract, but  repel. 

Luck  was  with  the  young  deserter.  Several  priva- 
teers were  being  fitted  out  at  the  safe  port  of  St. 
Thomas  and  he  was  appointed  Captain  of  one  of  them. 
Letters  of  Marque  were  granted  by  the  Governor  of 
the  Mauritius. 


LAFITTE  346 

"  Ah  ha !  "  cried  the  youthful  adventurer.  "  Now 
I  can  run  things  to  suit  myseilf.  And  I'll  grow 
rich." 

This  he  speedily  succeeded  in  doing,  for,  in  the 
course  of  his  cruise,  he  robbed  several  vessels  which 
came  in  his  path,  and,  stopping  at  the  Seychelles 
(Islands  off  the  eastern  coast  of  Africa),  took  on  a 
load  of  slaves  for  the  port  of  St.  Thomas.  Thus  he 
had  descended  —  not  only  to  piracy  —  but  also  to 
slave  catching;  the  lowest  depths  to  which  a  seaman 
could  come  down. 

When  four  days  out  from  the  curiously  named 
islands,  a  cry  went  up  from  the  watch, 

"  Sail  ho !  Off  the  port  bow !  A  British  frigate,  by 
much  that's  good,  and  she's  after  us  with  all  speed !  " 

To  which  bold  Lafitte  answered,  "  Then,  we  must 
run  for  it !  "  But  he  hoisted  every  bit  of  canvas  which 
he  had  about  and  headed  for  the  Bay  of  Bengal. 
"  And,"  said  he,  "  if  she  does  not  catch  us  and  we  get 
away,  we'll  take  an  English  merchantman  and  burn 
her."    Then  he  laughed  satirically. 

The  British  frigate  plodded  along  after  the  lighter 
vessel  of  Lafitte's  until  the  Equator  was  reached,  and 
then  she  disappeared,  —  disgruntled  at  not  being  able 
to  catch  the  saucy  tartar.  But  the  privateersman 
headed  for  the  blue  Bay  of  Bengal;  there  fell  in  with 
an  English  armed  schooner  with  a  numerous  crew; 
and  —  although  he  only  had  two  guns  and  twenty-six 
men  aboard  his  own  vessel  —  he  tackled  the  sailors 
from  the  chilly  isle  like  a  terrier  shaking  a  rat.  There 
was  »  stiff  little  fight  upon  the  shimmering  waves  of 


346      FAMOUS   PRIVATEERSMEN 

the  Indian  Ocean.  When  night  descended  the  Brit- 
isher had  struck  and  nineteen  blood-stained  rufens 
from  the  privateer  took  possession  of  the  battered  hulk, 
singing  a  song  which  ran : 

"  For  it's  fourteen  men  on  a  dead  man's  chest, 
Yo-Ho-Ho-  and  a  bottle  of  rum." 

Lafitte  was  now  feeling  better;  his  men  had  been 
fed;  he  had  good  plunder;  and  he  possessed  two 
staunch,  little  craft. 

"  Let's  bear  away  for  India,  my  Hearties,"  cried  he, 
"  and  we'll  hit  another  Englishman  and  take  her." 

What  he  had  said  soon  came  to  pass,  for,  when  off 
the  hazy,  low-lying  coast  of  Bengal,  a  rakish  East 
Indiaman  came  lolling  by,  armed  with  twenty-six 
twelve-pounders  and  manned  with  one  hundred  and 
fifty  men.  A  bright  boarding  upon  her  stern-posts 
flaunted  the  truly  Eastern  name :   the  Pagoda. 

The  dull-witted  Britishers  had  no  suspicions  of  the 
weak,  Puritan-looking,  little  two-'undred  tonner  of 
Lafitte's,  as  she  glided  in  close;  luffed;  and  bobbed 
about,  as  a  voice  came : 

"  Sa-a-y !    Want  a  pilot  fer  the  Ganges  ?  " 

There  was  no  reply  for  a  while.  Then  a  voice 
shrilled  back, 

"  Come  up  on  th'  port  quarter.  That's  just  what 
we've  been  lookin'  for." 

The  fat  Pagoda  ploughed  listlessly  onward,  as  the 
unsuspicious-looking  pilot  plodded  up  on  the  port  side ; 
in  fact,  most  of  the  crew  were  dozing  comfortably 
under  awnings  on  the  deck,  when  a  shot  rang  out.    An- 


LAPITTE  347 

other  and  another  followed,  and,  with  a  wild,  ear- 
splitting  whoop,  the  followers  of  Lafitte  clambered 
across  the  rail;  dirks  in  their  mouths;  pistols  in  their 
right  hands,  and  cutlasses  in  their  left. 

Now  was  a  short  and  bloodless  fight.  Taken  com- 
pletely by  surprise,  the  Englishmen  threw  up  their 
hands  and  gave  in  only  too  willingly.  With  smiles  of 
satisfaction  uix)n  their  faces,  the  seamen  of  the  bad 
man  from  St.  Malo  soon  hauled  two  kegs  of  spirits 
upon  the  decks,  and  held  high  revel  upon  the  clean 
boarding  of  the  rich  and  valuable  prize.  The  Pagoda 
was  re-christened  The  Pride  of  St.  Malo,  and  soon 
went  off  privateering  upon  her  own  hook;  while  La- 
fitte headed  back  for  St.  Thomas :  well-fed  —  even 
sleek  with  good  living  —  and  loaded  down  with  the 
treasure  which  he  had  taken.  "  Ah-ha !  "  cried  the 
black-haired  navigator.  ''  I  am  going  to  be  King  of 
the  Indian  waters." 

Now  came  the  most  bloody  and  successful  of  his 
battles  upon  the  broad  highway  of  the  gleaming, 
southern  ocean. 

Taking  command  of  the  La  Confidence  of  twenty-six 
guns  and  two  hundred  and  fifty  men,  whom  he  found 
at  the  port  of  St.  Thomas,  he  again  headed  for  the 
coast  of  British  India ;  keen  in  the  expectation  of 
striking  a  valuable  prize.  And  his  expectations  v^ere 
well  fulfilled. 

In  October,  1807,  the  welcome  cry  of  "  Sail  Ho!  " 
sounded  from  the  forward  watch,  when  off  the  Sand 
Heads,  and  there  upon  the  starboard  bow  was  a  spot 
of  white,  which  proved  to  be  a  Queen's  East  India- 


348      FAMOUS   PRIVATEERSMEN 

man,  with  a  crew  of  near  four  hundred.  She  carried 
forty  guns. 

There  were  double  the  number  of  cannon,  there 
were  double  the  number  of  men,  but  Lafitte  cried  out : 

"  I  came  out  to  fight  and  I'm  going  to  do  it,  com- 
rades !  You  see  before  you  a  vessel  which  is  stronger 
than  our  own,  but,  with  courage  and  nerve,  we  can 
beat  her.  I  will  run  our  own  ship  close  to  the  enemy. 
You  must  lie  down  behind  the  protecting  sides  of  our 
vessel  until  we  touch  the  stranger.  Then  —  when  I 
give  the  signal  to  board  —  let  each  man  seize  a  cut- 
lass, a  dirk,  and  two  pistols,  and  strike  down  all  that 
oppose  him.     We  must  and  can  win !  " 

These  stirring  words  were  greeted  by  a  wild  and 
hilarious  cheer. 

Now,  running  upon  the  port  tack,  the  La  Confidence 
bore  down  upon  the  Britisher  with  the  water  boiling 
under  her  bows;  while  the  stranger  luffed,  and  pre- 
pared for  action.  Shrill  cries  sounded  from  her  huge 
carcass  as  her  guns  were  loaded  and  trained  upon  the 
oncoming  foe,  while  her  masts  began  to  swarm  with 
sharpshooters  eager  to  pick  off  the  ravenous  sea-dogs 
from  the  Mauritius. 

Suddenly  a  terrific  roar  sounded  above  the  rattle 
of  ropes  and  creak  of  hawsers  —  and  a  broadside  cut 
into  the  La  Confidence  with  keen  accuracy. 

"  Lie  flat  upon  the  deck,"  cried  Lafitte,  "  and  dodge 
the  iron  boys  if  you  can  see  'em." 

His  men  obeyed,  and,  as  the  missiles  f>ounded  into 
the  broad  sides  of  their  ship,  the  steersman  ran  her 
afoul  of  the  Queen*s  East  Indiaman,     When  he  did 


LAFITTE  349 

so,  many  sailors  swarmed  into  the  rigging,  and  from 
the  yards  and  tops  threw  bombs  and  grenades  into  the 
forecastle  of  the  enemy,  so  that  death  and  terror  made 
the  Britishers  abandon  the  portion  of  their  vessel  near 
the  mizzen-mast. 

''  Forty  of  the  crew  will  now  board,"  cried  Lafitte. 
''  And  let  every  mother's  son  strike  home !  " 

With  pistols  in  their  hands  and  daggers  held  be- 
tween their  teeth,  the  wild  sea-rovers  rollicked  across 
the  gun-whales  like  a  swarm  of  rats.  Dancing  up  the 
deck  of  the  Britisher  they  beat  back  all  who  opposed 
them,  driving  them  below  into  the  steerage.  Shots 
rang  out  like  spitting  cats;  dirks  gleamed;  and  cut- 
lasses did  awful  execution.  But  the  Captain  of  the 
Indiaman  was  rallying  his  men  about  him  on  the  poop, 
and,  with  a  wild  cheer,  these  precipitated  themselves 
upon  the  victorious  privateers. 

"  Board !  Board !  "  cried  Lafitte,  at  this  propitious 
moment,  and,  cutlass  in  hand,  he  leaped  from  his  own 
vessel  upon  the  deck  of  the  East  Indiaman.  His  crew 
followed  with  a  yelp  of  defiant  hatred,  and  beat  the 
Captain's  party  back  again  upon  the  poop,  where  they 
stood  stolidly,  cursing  at  the  rough  sea-riders  from 
St.  Thomas. 

But  Lafitte  was  a  general  not  to  be  outdone  by  such 
a  show  of  force.  He  ordered  a  gun  to  be  loaded  with 
grape-shot;  had  it  pointed  towards  the  place  where 
the  crowd  was  assembled ;   and  cried  — 

"  If  you  don't  give  in  now,  I'll  exterminate  all  of 
you  at  one  discharge  of  my  piece." 

It  was  the  last  blow.     Seeing  that  it  was  useless  to 


350      FAMOUS   PKIVATEERSMEN 

continue  the  unequal  struggle,  the  British  Captain 
held  up  his  long  cutlass,  to  which  was  bound  a  white 
handkerchief,  and  the  great  sea  battle  was  over.  La- 
fitte  and  his  terrible  crew  had  captured  a  boat  of  double 
the  size  of  his  own,  and  with  twice  his  numbers. 

Says  an  old  chronicler  of  the  period :  "  This  exploit, 
hitherto  unparalleled,  resounded  through  India,  and 
the  name  of  Lafitte  became  the  terror  of  English  com- 
merce in  these  latitudes.  The  British  vessels  now 
traversed  the  Indian  Ocean  under  strong  convoys,  in 
order  to  beat  off  this  harpy  of  South  Africa." 

"  Egad,"  said  Lafitte  about  this  time,  "  these  fel- 
lows are  too  smart  for  me.  I'll  have  to  look  for  other 
pickings.     I'm  off  for  France." 

So  he  doubled  the  Cape  of  Good  Hope,  coasted  up 
the  Gulf  of  Guinea,  and,  in  the  Bight  of  Benin,  took 
two  valuable  prizes  loaded  down  with  gold  dust,  ivory, 
and  palm  oil.  With  these  he  ran  to  St.  Malo,  where 
the  people  said: 

*'  Tenez !  Here  is  a  brave  fellow,  but  would  you 
care  to  have  his  reputation.  Monsieur?"  And  they 
shook  their  heads,  shrugged  their  shoulders,  and 
looked  the  other  way  when  they  saw  him  coming. 

The  privateersman,  slaver,  and  pirate  was  not  going 
to  be  long  with  them,  however,  for  he  soon  fitted  out 
a  brigantine,  mounted  twenty  guns  on  her.  and  with 
one  hundred  and  fifty  men,  sailed  for  Guadaloupe, 
among  the  West  Indies.  He  took  several  valuable 
prizes,  but,  during  his  absence  upon  a  cruise,  the  island 
was  captured  by  the  British,  so  he  started  for  a  more 
congenial  clime.     He  roved  about  for  some  months. 


LAFITTE  361 

to  settle  at  last  at  Barrataria,  near  New  Orleans, 
Louisiana.  He  was  rich ;  he  had  amassed  great  quan- 
tities of  booty;  and  he  was  a  man  of  property.  La- 
fitte,  in  fact,  was  a  potentate. 

"  Now,"  said  the  privateer  and  pirate,  "  I  will  settle 
down  and  found  a  colony." 

But  can  a  man  of  action  keep  still? 

It  is  true  that  Lafitte  was  not  as  bold  and  audacious 
as  before,  for  he  was  now  obliged  to  have  dealings 
with  merchants  of  the  United  States  and  the  West 
Indies  who  frequently  owed  him  large  sums  of  money, 
and  the  cautious  transactions  necessary  to  found  and 
to  conduct  a  colony  of  pirates  and  smugglers  in  the 
very  teeth  of  civilization,  made  the  black-haired 
Frenchman  cloak  his  real  character  under  a  veneer  of 
supposed  gentility.  Hundreds  of  privateers,  pirates, 
and  smugglers  gathered  around  the  banner  of  this 
robber  of  the  high  seas. 

But  what  is  Barrataria? 

Part  of  the  coast  of  Louisiana  is  called  by  that 
name :  that  part  lying  between  Bastien  Bay  on  the 
east,  and  the  mouth  of  the  wide  river,  or  bayou  of 
La  Fourche,  on  the  west.  Not  far  from  the  rolling, 
sun-baked  Atlantic  are  the  lakes  of  Barrataria,  connect- 
ing with  one  another  by  several  large  bayous  and  a 
great  number  of  branches.  In  one  of  these  is  the 
Island  of  Barrataria,  while  this  sweet-sounding  name 
is  also  given  to  a  large  basin  which  extends  the  entire 
length  of  the  cypress  swamps,  from  the  Gulf  of 
Mexico,  to  a  point  three  miles  above  New  Orleans. 
The  waters  from  this  lake  slowly  empty  into  the  Gulf 


?52      FAMOUS   PRIVATEERSMEN 

by  two  passages  through  the  Bayou  Barrataria,  be- 
tween which  Hes  an  island  called  Grand  Terre :  six 
miles  in  length,  and  three  in  breadth,  running  parallel 
with  the  coast.  To  the  West  of  this  is  the  great  pass 
of  Barrataria,  where  is  about  nine  to  ten  feet  of  water : 
enough  to  float  the  ordinary  pirate  or  privateersman's 
vessel.  Within  this  pass  —  about  two  miles  from  the 
open  sea  —  lies  the  only  safe  harbor  upon  the  coast, 
and  this  is  where  the  cut-throats,  pirates,  and  smug- 
glers gathered  under  Lafitte.  They  called  themselves 
Barratarians,  and  they  were  a  godless  crew. 

At  a  place  called  Grand  Terre,  the  privateers  would 
often  make  public  sale  of  their  cargoes  and  prizes  by 
auction.  And  the  most  respectable  inhabitants  of  the 
State  were  accustomed  to  journey  there  in  order  to 
purchase  the  goods  which  the  Barratarians  had  to 
offer.    They  would  smile,  and  say, 

"  We  are  going  to  get  some  of  the  treasure  of 
Captain  Kidd." 

But  the  Government  of  the  United  States  did  not 
take  so  kindly  to  the  idea  of  a  privateer  and  pirate 
colony  within  its  borders.  And  —  with  malice  afore- 
thought —  one  Commodore  Patterson  was  sent  to  dis- 
perse these  marauders  at  Barrataria,  who,  confident 
of  their  strength  and  fighting  ability,  defiantly  flaunted 
their  flag  in  the  faces  of  the  officers  of  the  Govern- 
ment. "  We  can  lick  the  whole  earth,"  chuckled  the 
piratical  followers  of  Lafitte. 

Patterson  was  a  good  fighter.  On  June  the  eleventh 
he  departed  from  New  Orleans  with  seventy  members 
of  the  44th  regiment  of  infantry.     On  the  sixteenth 


LAFITTE  353 

he  made  for  the  Island  of  Barrataria,  with  some  six 
gun-boats,  a  launch  mounting  one  twelve  pound  car- 
ronade;  the  Sea  Horse  (a  tender  carrying  one  six- 
pounder)  and  the  schooner  Carolina. 

"  We  must  fight,  Boys,"  cried  Lafitte  to  his  ill- 
assorted  mates.  "  Come,  take  to  our  schooners  and 
show  these  officers  that  the  followers  of  Lafitte  can 
battle  like  Trojans." 

A  cheer  greeted  these  noble  sentiments. 

"  Lead  on !  "  yelled  his  cut-throats.  "  Lead  on  and 
we'll  sink  these  cocky  soldiers  as  we've  done  to  many 
an  East  Indiaman  I  " 

So,  about  two  o'clock  in  the  afternoon,  the  priva- 
teers and  pirates  formed  their  vessels,  ten  in  number 
(including  their  prizes)  near  the  entrance  of  the 
harbor. 

Crash! 

A  shell  from  the  forward  gun  of  the  leading  gun- 
boat spun  across  the  bows  of  Lafitte's  flagship  and 
buried  itself  in  the  gray  water  with  a  dull  sob. 

Up  went  a  huge  white  flag  upon  the  foremost  mast- 
head of  the  king  pirate  and  these  words  could  be 
plainly  seen : 

"  Pardon  for  all  Deserters." 

"  Ah,  ha,"  chuckled  Patterson.  "  The  arch  ruffian 
has  heard  that  some  of  my  men  are  ashore  and  this 
is  the  way  he  would  hire  them." 

Crash! 

Another  shell  ricochetted  across  the  still  surface 
of  the  harbor  and  sunk  itself  in  the  side  of  a  piratical 
brig. 


354      FAMOUS   PRIVATEERSMEN 

"  Hello !  "  cried  a  Lieutenant,  running  up  to  the 
United  States  Commander.  ''  They're  giving  up  al- 
ready. See!  The  beggars  are  hastening  ashore  in 
order  to  skip  into  the  woods." 

"  I'm  afraid  so,"  answered  the  disappointed  Com- 
modore. "  All  my  pains  for  nothing.  The  fellows 
are  getting  away." 

Sure  enough  —  afraid  to  remain  and  fight  it  out  — 
the  craven  followers  of  Lafitte  now  turned  their 
schooners  to  the  shore  —  ran  their  bows  into  the  sand, 
and,  leaping  overboard,  made  into  the  forest  as  fast 
as  their  legs  could  carry  them.  Thus  —  without  firing 
a  shot  —  the  cowardly  pirates  of  Barrataria  *'  took  to 
the  bush." 

"  The  enemy  had  mounted  on  their  vessels,  twenty 
pieces  of  cannon  of  different  calibre,"  wrote  Patterson, 
after  this  tame  affair.  "  And,  as  I  have  since  learnt, 
they  had  from  eight  hundred  to  one  thousand  men  of 
all  nations  and  colors.  When  I  perceived  the  pirates 
forming  their  vessels  into  a  line  of  battle  I  felt  con- 
fident, from  their  fleet  and  very  advantageous  position, 
and  their  number  of  men,  that  they  would  have  fought 
me.  Their  not  doing  so  I  regret;  for  had  they,  I 
should  have  been  enabled  more  effectually  to  destroy 
or  make  prisoners  of  them  and  their  leaders;  but  it 
is  a  subject  of  great  satisfaction  to  me,  to  have  effected 
the  object  of  my  enterprise,  without  the  loss  of  a  man. 
On  the  afternoon  of  the  23rd,  I  got  under  way  with 
my  whole  squadron,  in  all  seventeen  vessels,  but  dur- 
ing the  night  one  escaped  and  the  next  day  I  arrived 
at  New  Orleans  with  my  entire  command." 


LAFITTB  365 

Thus  ended  the  magnificent  (?)  attempt  of  the 
vainglorious  Lafitte  to  stem  the  advance  of  the  Gov- 
ernment of  the  United  States.  In  the  parlance  of  the 
camp,  *'  He  was  a  fust-class  quitter." 

But  he  did  not  show  himself  to  be  a  "  quitter  "  in 
the  battle  of  New  Orleans. 

The  English  and  Americans,  in  fact,  were  soon  at 
each  other's  throats  in  the  ungentle  game  of  war.  At 
different  times  the  British  had  sought  to  attack  the 
pirates  of  Barrataria,  in  the  hope  of  taking  their 
prizes  and  armed  vessels.  On  June  23rd,  18 13,  while 
two  of  Lafitte's  privateers  were  lying  to  off  of  Cat 
Island,  an  English  sloop-of-war  came  to  anchor  at 
the  entrance  of  the  pass,  and  sent  out  two  boats  in  the 
endeavor  to  capture  the  rakish  sea-robbers.  But  they 
were  repulsed  with  severe  and  galling  loss. 

On  the  2nd  of  September,  18 14,  an  armed  brig 
appeared  on  the  coast,  opposite  the  famous  pass  to  the 
home  of  the  rangers  of  the  sea.  She  fired  a  gun  at  a 
smuggler,  about  to  enter,  and  forced  her  to  poke  her 
nose  into  a  sand-bar;  she  then  jibed  over  and  came 
to  anchor  at  the  entrance  to  the  shallows. 

"  That  vessel  means  business,  sure,"  said  one  of  the 
pirates  to  Lafitte.  "  She  has  spouted  one  gun,  but  now 
she's  lyin'  to.     Better  see  what's  up." 

"  You're  right,"  answered  the  famous  sea-rover. 
"  We'll  go  off  in  a  boat  and  look  out  for  what's  going 
to  happen." 

So,  starting  from  the  shore,  he  was  soon  on  his  way 
to  the  brig,  from  which  a  pinnace  was  lowered,  in 
which  could  be  seen  two  ofificers,  one  of  whom  had  a 


356      FAMOUS   PRIVATEERSMEN 

flag  of  truce.  The  two  boats  rapidly  neared  each 
other. 

"  Where  is  Mr.  Lafitte  ?  "  cried  one  of  the  Britishers, 
as  the  pinnace  neared  the  shore.  "  I  would  speak  with 
the  Laird  of  Barrataria." 

But  Lafitte  was  not  anxious  to  make  himself  known. 

*'  He's  ashore,"  said  he.  "  But,  if  you  have  com- 
munications for  him,  these  I  can  deliver." 

**  Pray,  give  him  these  packages,  my  good  man," 
spoke  the  English  tar,  handing  him  a  bundle  of  letters, 
tied  up  in  tarpaulin. 

Lafitte  smiled. 

"  I  would  be  delighted  to  do  so,"  he  replied.  "  But, 
pray  come  ashore  and  there  I  will  return  you  your  an- 
swer after  I  have  seen  the  great  Captain,  who  is  camp- 
ing about  a  league  inland." 

The  Britishers  readily  assented,  and  both  rowed 
towards  the  sandy  beach,  where  a  great  number  of 
pirates  of  Barrataria  had  collected. 

As  soon  as  the  boats  were  in  shallow  water,  Lafitte 
made  himself  known  to  the  English,  saying : 

"  Do  not  let  my  men  know  upon  what  business  you 
come,  for  it  will  go  ill  with  you.  My  followers  know 
that  war  is  now  on  between  Great  Britain  and 
the  United  States,  and,  if  they  hear  you  are 
making  overtures  with  me,  they  will  wish  to  hang 
you." 

It  was  as  he  had  said.  When  the  Englishmen 
landed,  a  great  cry  went  up  amongst  the  privateers, 
pirates  and  smugglers : 

"  Hang  the  spies!  Kill  the  dirty  dogs !  To  the  yard- 


LAFITTB  357 

arm  with  the  rascally  Englishmen!  Send  the  hounds 
to  New  Orleans  and  to  jail ! " 

But  Lafitte  dissuaded  the  multitude  from  their  intent 
and  led  the  officers  in  safety  to  his  dwelling,  where  he 
opened  the  package,  finding  a  proclamation  addressed 
to  the  inhabitants  of  Louisiana,  by  Col.  Edward 
Nichalls  —  British  commander  of  the  land  forces  in 
this  state  —  requesting  them  to  come  under  the  shelter- 
ing arm  of  the  British  Government.  There  were  also 
two  letters  to  himself,  asking  him  to  join  and  fight 
with  the  English. 

"  If  you  will  but  battle  with  us,"  said  Captain 
Lockyer  —  one  of  the  British  officers  —  "  we  will 
give  you  command  of  a  forty-four  gun  frigate,  and 
will  make  you  a  Post  Captain.  You  will  also  receive 
thirty  thousand  dollars,  —  payable  at  Pensacola." 

Lafitte  looked  dubiously  at  him. 

"  I  will  give  answer  in  a  few  days,"  he  replied,  with 
courtesy. 

"  You  are  a  Frenchman,"  continued  the  British  Cap- 
tain. "  You  are  not  in  the  service  of  the  United  States, 
nor  likely  to  be.  Come  —  man  —  give  us  a  reply  at 
once." 

Captain  Lafitte  was  obdurate,  for  —  strange  as  it 
may  seem  —  he  wished  to  inform  the  officers  of  the 
State  Government  of  this  project  of  the  English.  So 
he  withdrew  to  his  own  hut. 

As  he  did  this,  the  pirates  seized  the  British  officers, 
dragged  them  to  a  cabin,  and  thrust  them  inside.  A 
guard  was  stationed  at  the  door,  while  cries  went  up 
from  every  quarter: 


358      FAMOUS   PRIVATEERSMEN 

*'  To  New  Orleans  with  the  scoundrels !  A  yard- 
arm  for  the  butchers!  A  rope's  end  for  the  scurvy- 
tars!" 

Lafitte  was  furious  when  he  learned  of  this,  and, 
after  haranguing  the  crowd,  had  the  Britishers  re- 
leased. 

"  If  you  treat  men  under  a  flag  of  truce  as  pris- 
oners," he  cried,  "  you  break  one  of  the  first  rules  of 
warfare.  You  will  get  the  same  treatment  if  you, 
yourselves,  are  captured,  and  you  will  lose  the  oppor- 
tunity of  discovering  what  are  the  projects  of  the 
British  upon  Louisiana." 

His  men  saw  the  good  sense  of  these  words  of 
advice,  and  acted  accordingly. 

Early  the  next  morning  the  officers  were  escorted 
to  their  pinnace  with  many  apologies  from  Lafitte,  who 
now  wrote  a  letter  to  Captain  Lockyer,  which  shows 
him  to  have  been  a  man  of  considerable  cultivation, 
and  not  a  mere  "  rough  and  tumble  "  pirate  —  without 
education  or  refinement.     He  said : 

"  Barrataria,  4th  Sept.,  1814. 
"  To  Captain  Lockyer, 

"  Sir  :  —  The  confusion  which  prevailed  in  our 
camp  yesterday  and  this  morning,  and  of  which  you 
have  a  complete  knowledge,  has  prevented  me  from 
answering  in  a  precise  manner  to  the  object  of  your 
mission;  nor  even  at  this  moment  can  I  give  you  all 
the  satisfaction  that  you  desire.  However,  if  you  could 
grant  me  a  fortnight,  I  would  be  entirely  at  your  dis- 
posal at  the  end  of  that  time. 


LAFITTE  369 

"  This  delay  is  indispensable  to  enable  me  to  put  my 
affairs  in  order.  You  may  communicate  with  me  by 
sending  a  boat  to  the  Eastern  point  of  the  pass,  where 
I  will  be  found.  You  have  inspired  me  with  more  con- 
fidence than  the  Admiral  —  your  superior  officer  — 
could  have  done,  himself.  With  you  alone  I  wish  to 
deal,  and  from  you,  also,  I  will  claim  in  due  time,  the 
reward  of  the  services  which  I  may  render  you. 
"  Your  very  respectful  servant, 

"  J.  Lafitte." 

His  object  in  writing  this  letter  —  you  see  —  was, 
by  appearing  to  accede  to  the  proposals,  to  give  time  to 
communicate  the  affair  to  the  officers  of  the  State  Gov- 
ernment of  Louisiana  and  to  receive  from  them  in- 
structions how  to  act,  under  circumstances  so  critical 
and  important  to  his  own  country :  that  is,  the  country 
of  his  adoption. 

He,  therefore,  addressed  the  following  epistle  to  the 
Governor  of  Louisiana.  Do  you  think  that  you,  your- 
self, could  write  as  well  as  did  this  pirate  ? 

"  Barrataria,  Sept.  4th,  18 14. 
"  To  Governor  Claiborne  : 

'*  Sir  :  —  In  the  firm  persuasion  that  the  choice  made 
of  you  to  fill  the  office  of  first  magistrate  of  this  State, 
was  dictated  by  the  esteem  of  your  fellow  citizens,  and 
was  conferred  on  merit,  I  confidently  address  you  on  an 
affair  on  which  may  depend  the  safety  of  this  country. 

"  I  offer  to  you  to  restore  to  this  State  several  citi- 
zens, who  perhaps,  in  your  eyes,  have  lost  that  sacred 


360      FAMOUS   PRIVATEERSMEN 

title.  I  offer  you  them,  however,  such  as  you  could 
wish  to  find  them,  ready  to  exert  their  utmost  efforts 
in  the  defence  of  the  country. 

"  This  point  of  Louisiana,  which  I  occupy,  is  of  great 
importance  in  the  present  crisis.  I  tender  my  services 
to  defend  it;  and  the  only  reward  I  ask  is  that  a  stop 
be  put  to  the  proscription  against  me  and  my  adherents, 
by  an  act  of  oblivion,  for  all  that  has  been  done  here- 
tofore. 

"  I  am  the  stray  sheep  wishing  to  return  to  the  fold. 

"  If  you  are  thoroughly  acquainted  with  the  nature 
of  my  offences,  I  should  appear  to  you  muchjess  guilty, 
and  still  worthy  to  discharge  the  duties  of  a  good  citi- 
zen. I  have  never  sailed  under  any  flag  but  the  repub- 
lic of  Carthagena,  and  my  vessels  were  perfectly  regu- 
lar in  that  respect. 

"  If  I  could  have  brought  my  lawful  prizes  into  the 
ports  of  this  State,  I  should  not  have  employed  illicit 
means  that  have  caused  me  to  be  proscribed  (hounded 
by  the  State  authorities). 

"  I  decline  to  say  more  upon  this  subject  until  I  have 
your  Excellency's  answer,  which  I  am  persuaded  can 
be  dictated  only  by  wisdom.  Should  your  answer  not 
be  favorable  to  my  ardent  desire,  I  declare  to  you  that 
I  will  instantly  leave  the  country,  to  avoid  the  imputa- 
tion of  having  cooperated  towards  an  invasion  on  this 
point,  which  cannot  fail  to  take  place,  and  to  rest  secure 
in  the  acquittal  of  my  conscience. 

"  I  have  the  honor  to  be, 

"  Your  Excellency's  Most  Humble  Servant, 

"  J.  Lafitte." 


LAFITTE  361 

Now  how  is  that  for  a  swashbuckHng  privateer? 
Anyone  would  be  proud  of  such  a  letter  and  it  does 
honor  to  the  judgment  of  this  sand-spit  king,  giving 
clear  evidence  of  a  strange  but  sincere  attachment  to 
the  American  cause.     Hurrah  for  the  Frenchman! 

This  missive,  in  fact,  made  such  an  impression  upon 
the  Governor  that  he  had  an  interview  with  Lafitte, 
who  was  ushered  into  his  presence  only  to  find  General 
Andrew  Jackson  (Old  Hickory)  closeted  with  the  chief 
executive. 

"  My  dear  sir,"  said  the  effusive  Governor.  "  Your 
praiseworthy  wishes  shall  be  laid  before  the  council  of 
the  State,  and  I  will  confer  with  my  august  friend,  here 
present,  upon  this  important  affair,  and  send  you  an 
answer." 

Bowing  low,  the  courteous  privateersman  withdrew. 

"  Farewell,"  cried  Old  Hickory  after  his  retreating 
form.  "  When  we  meet  again  I  trust  that  it  will  be 
in  the  ranks  of  the  American  Army." 

And  in  two  days'  time  appeared  the  following  procla- 
mation : 

"  The  Governor  of  Louis^'ana,  informed  that  many 
individuals  implicated  in  the  offences  hitherto  com- 
mitted against  the  United  States  at  Barrataria,  ex- 
press a  willingness  at  the  present  crisis  to  enroll  them- 
selves and  march  against  the  enemy. 

"  He  does  hereby  invite  them  to  join  the  standard 
of  the  United  States,  and  is  authorized  to  say,  should 
their  conduct  in  the  field  meet  the  approbation  of  the 
Major  General,  that  that  oflficer  will  unite  with  the 
Governor  in  a  request  to  the  President  of  the  United 


362      FAMOUS   PRIVATEERSMEN 

States,  to  extend  to  each  and  every  individual,  so 
marching  and  acting,  a  free  and  full  pardon." 

When  Lafitte  saw  these  words,  he  fairly  yelled  with 
delight,  and  it  is  said  that  he  jumped  into  the  air, 
cracking  his  heels  three  times  together  before  he  struck 
the  ground. 

The  orders  were  circulated  among  his  followers  and 
most  of  them  readily  embraced  the  pardon  which  they 
held  out.  Thus  —  in  a  few  days  —  many  brave  men 
and  skillful  artillerists  flocked  to  the  red-white-and- 
blue  standard  of  the  United  States.  And  when  —  a 
few  months  afterwards  —  Old  Hickory  and  his  men 
were  crouched  behind  a  line  of  cotton  bales,  awaiting 
the  attack  of  a  British  army  (heroes,  in  fact,  of  Sar- 
gossa),  there,  upon  the  left  flank,  was  the  sand-spit 
King  and  his  evil  crew.  Lafitte's  eyes  were  sparkling 
like  an  electric  bulb,  and  the  language  of  his  followers 
does  not  bear  repetition. 

It  was  the  morning  of  January  eighth.  The  British 
were  about  to  attack  the  American  Army  defending 
New  Orleans,  which  —  under  the  leadership  of  stout 
Andrew  Jackson  —  now  crouched  behind  the  earth- 
works and  cotton  bales,  some  miles  from  the  city. 
Rockets  shot  into  the  air  with  a  sizzling  snap.  The 
roar  of  cannon  shook  the  thin  palmettos,  and  wild 
British  cheers  came  from  the  lusty  throats  of  the 
British  veterans  of  Spain,  as  they  advanced  to 
the  assault  in  close  order  —  sixty  men  in  front  — 
with  fascines  and  ladders  for  scaling  the  defences. 
Now  a  veritable  storm  of  rockets  hissed  and  sizzed 
into  the  American  lines,  while  a  light  battery  of  artil- 


LAFITTE  363 

lery  pom-pomed  and  growled  upon  the  left  flank.  All 
was  silence  in  the  dun-colored  embankments. 

But  look!  Suddenly  a  sheet  of  flame  burst  from 
the  earthworks  where  lay  the  buck-skin-clad  rangers 
from  Tennessee  and  Kentucky :  men  who  had  fought 
Indians ;  had  cleared  the  forest  for  their  rude  log  huts, 
and  were  able  to  hit  the  eye  of  a  squirrel  at  one  hun- 
dred yards.  Crash!  Crash!  Crash!  A  flame  of  fire 
burst  through  the  pall  of  sulphurous  smoke,  a  storm  of 
leaden  missiles  swept  into  the  red  coats  of  the  advan- 
cing British,  and  down  they  fell  in  wind-rows,  like 
wheat  before  the  reaper.  Boom!  Boom!  Boom!  The 
cannon  growled  and  spat  from  the  cotton  bales,  and 
one  of  these  —  a  twenty-four  pounder  —  placed  upon 
the  third  embrasure  from  the  river,  from  the  fatal 
skill  and  activity  with  which  it  was  managed  (even  in 
the  best  of  battle),  —  drew  the  admiration  of  both 
Americans  and  British.  It  became  one  of  the  points 
most  dreaded  by  the  advancing  foe.  Boom!  Boom! 
It  grumbled  and  roared  its  thunder,  while  Lafitte  and 
his  corsairs  of  Barrataria  rammed  home  the  iron 
charges,  and  —  stripped  to  the  waist  —  fought  like 
wolves  at  bay. 

Two  other  batteries  were  manned  by  the  Barrata- 
rians,  who  served  their  pieces  with  the  steadiness  and 
precision  of  veteran  gunners.  The  enemy  crept  closer, 
ever  closer,  and  a  column  pushed  forw^ard  between  the 
levee  and  the  river  so  precipitously  that  the  outposts 
were  forced  to  retire,  closely  pressed  by  the  coats  of 
red.  On,  on,  they  came,  and,  clearing  the  ditch  before 
the  earthworks,  gained  the  redoubt  through  the  em- 


364      FAMOUS   PRIVATEERSMEN 

brasures,  leaped  over  the  parapet  and  quickly  bay- 
onetted  the  small  force  of  backwoodsmen  who  held 
this  point. 

*'  To  the  rescue,  men,"  cried  Lafitte,  at  this  junc- 
ture.   ''  Out  and  at  'em !  " 

Cutlass  in  hand,  the  privateer  called  a  few  of  his 
best  followers  to  his  side ;  men  who  had  often  boarded 
the  decks  of  an  East  Indiaman  and  were  well  used  to 
hand-to-hand  engagements.  With  a  wild  cheer  they 
leaped  over  the  breastworks  and  rushed  upon  the 
enemy. 

The  British  were  absolutely  astonished  at  the  in- 
trepidity of  this  advance.  Pistols  spat,  cutlasses 
swung,  and  one  after  another,  the  English  ofificers  fell 
before  the  snapping  blade  of  the  King  of  Barrataria,  as 
they  bravely  cheered  on  their  men.  The  practiced 
boarders  struck  the  red-coated  columns  with  the  same 
fierceness  with  which  they  had  often  bounded  upon  the 
deck  of  an  enemy,  and  cheer  after  cheer  welled  above 
the  rattle  of  arms  as  the  advancing  guardsmen  were 
beaten  back.  All  the  energies  of  the  British  were  con- 
centrated upon  scaling  the  breastworks,  which  one 
daring  officer  had  already  mounted.  But  Lafitte  and 
his  followers,  seconding  a  gallant  band  of  volunteer 
riflemen,  formed  a  phalanx  which  it  was  impossible  to 
penetrate.    They  fought  desperately. 

It  was  now  late  in  the  day.  The  field  was  strewn 
with  the  dead  and  dying.  Still  spat  the  unerring  rifles 
of  the  pioneers  and  still  crashed  the  unswerving  volleys 
from  their  practiced  rifles.  "We  cannot  take  the 
v/orks,"  cried  the  British.    "  We  must  give  up."    And 


LAPITTE  365 

—  turning  about  —  they  beat  a  sad  and  solemn 
retreat  to  their  vessels.  The  great  battle  of  New 
Orleans  was  over,  and  Lafitte  had  done  a  Trojan's 
share. 

In  a  few  days  peace  was  declared  between  the  United 
States  and  Great  Britain,  and  General  Jackson  —  in 
his  correspondence  with  the  Secretary  of  War  —  did 
not  fail  to  speak  in  the  most  flattering  terms  of  the 
conduct  of  the  "  Corsairs  of  Barrataria."  They  had 
fought  like  tigers,  and  they  had  been  sadly  misjudged 
by  tlie  EngHsh,  who  wished  to  enlist  them  in  their  own 
cause.  Their  zeal,  their  courage,  and  their  skill,  were 
noticed  by  the  whole  American  Army,  who  could  no 
longer  stigmatize  such  desperate  fighters  as  "  crim- 
inals." Many  had  been  sabred  and  wounded  in  defence 
of  New  Orleans,  and  many  had  given  up  their  lives 
before  the  sluggish  bayous  of  the  Mississippi.  And 
now,  Mr.  Lafitte,  it  is  high  time  that  you  led  a  decent 
life,  for  are  you  not  a  hero  ? 

But  "  murder  will  out,"  and  once  a  privateer  always 
a  privateer,  —  and  sometimes  a  pirate. 

Securing  some  fast  sailing  vessels,  the  King  of 
Barrataria  sailed  to  Galveston  Bay,  in  1819,  where  he 
received  a  commission  from  General  Long  as  a  "  pri- 
vateer." Not  content  with  living  an  honest  and  peace- 
ful life,  he  proceeded  to  do  a  little  smuggling  and 
illicit  trading  upon  his  own  account,  so  it  was  not  long 
before  a  United  States  cruiser  was  at  anchor  off  the 
port  to  watch  his  movements.  He  was  now  Governor 
of  Galveston,  and  considered  himself  to  be  a  personage 
of  great  moment.    Five  vessels  were  generally  cruising 


S66      FAMOUS   PRIVATEERSMEN 

under  his  orders,  while  three  hundred  men  obeyed  his 
word.     Texas  was  then  a  Republic. 

''  Sir  "  —  wrote  Lafitte  to  the  Commander  of  the 
American  cruiser  off  the  port  of  Galveston  —  "I  am 
convinced  that  you  are  a  cruiser  of  the  navy,  ordered 
here  by  your  Government.  I  have,  therefore,  deemed 
it  proper  to  inquire  into  the  cause  of  your  lying  before 
this  port  without  communicating  your  intention.  I 
wish  to  inform  you  that  the  port  of  Galveston  belongs 
to  and  is  in  the  possession  of  the  Republic  of  Texas, 
and  was  made  a  port  of  entry  the  9th  day  of  October, 
last.  And,  whereas  the  Supreme  Congress  of  the  said 
Republic  have  thought  proper  to  appoint  me  as  Gov- 
ernor of  this  place,  in  consequence  of  which,  if  you 
have  any  demands  on  said  Government,  you  will  please 
to  send  an  officer  with  such  demands,  who  will  be 
treated  with  the  greatest  politeness.  But,  if  you  are 
ordered,  or  should  attempt,  to  enter  this  port  in  a  hos- 
tile manner,  my  oath  and  duty  to  the  Government  com- 
pel me  to  rebut  your  intentions  at  the  expense  of  my 
life. 

**  Yours  very  respectfully, 

"  J.  Lafitte/' 

But  to  this  the  American  officer  paid  no  attention. 
Instead,  he  attacked  a  band  of  Lafitte's  followers,  who 
had  stationed  themselves  on  an  island  near  Barrataria 
with  several  cannon,  —  swearing  that  they  would  per- 
ish rather  than  surrender  to  any  man.  As  they  had 
committed  piracy,  —  they  were  open  to  assault. 
Twenty  were  taken,  tried  at  New  Orleans,  and  hung, 


LAPITTE  367 

—  the  rest  escaped  into  the  cypress  swamps,  where  it 
was  impossible  to  arrest  them. 

When  Lafitte  heard  of  this,  he  said  with  much  feel- 
ing: 

''  A  war  of  extermination  is  to  be  waged  against  me. 
I,  who  have  fought  and  bled  for  the  United  States. 
I  who  helped  them  to  win  the  battle  of  New  Orleans. 
My  cruisers  are  to  be  swept  from  the  sea.  I  must  turn 
from  Governor  of  Galveston,  and  privateer  to  pirate. 
Then  —  away  —  and  let  them  catch  me  if  they  can." 

Now  comes  the  last  phase  of  his  career.  Too  bad 
that  he  could  not  have  died  honestly ! 

Procuring  a  large  and  fast-sailing  brigantine,  mount- 
ing sixteen  guns,  and  having  selected  a  crew  of  one 
hundred  and  sixty  men,  the  desperate  and  dangerous 
Governor  of  Galveston  set  sail  upon  the  sparkling 
waters  of  the  Gulf,  determined  to  rob  all  nations  and 
neither  to  give  quarter  nor  to  receive  it. 

But  luck  was  against  him.  A  British  sloop-of-war 
was  cruising  in  the  Mexican  Gulf,  and,  hearing  that 
Lafitte,  himself,  was  at  sea,  kept  a  sharp  lookout  at 
the  masthead  for  the  sails  of  the  pirate. 

One  morning  as  an  officer  was  sweeping  the  horizon 
with  his  glass  he  discovered  a  long,  dark-looking  ves- 
sel, low  in  the  water:   her  sails  as  white  as  snow. 

"  Sail  off  the  port  bow,"  cried  he.  "  It's  the  Pirate, 
or  else  I'm  a  land-lubber." 

As  the  sloop-of-war  could  out-sail  the  corsair,  before 
the  wind,  she  set  her  studding-sails  and  crowded  every 
inch  of  canvas  in  chase.  Lafitte  soon  ascertained  the 
character  of  his  pursuer,  and,  ordering  the  awnings  to 


368      FAMOUS   PEIVATEERSMEN 

be  furled,  set  his  big  square-sail  and  shot  rapidly- 
through  the  water.  But  the  breeze  freshened  and  the 
sloop-of-war  rapidly  overhauled  the  scudding  brigan- 
tine.  In  an  hour's  time  she  was  within  hailing  distance 
and  Lafitte  was  in  a  fight  for  his  very  Hfe. 

Crash! 

A  cannon  belched  from  the  stern  of  the  pirate  and  a 
ball  came  dangerously  near  the  bow-sprit  of  the  Eng- 
lishman. • 

Crash!    Crash! 

Other  guns  roared  out  their  challenge  and  the  iron 
fairly  hailed  upon  the  decks  of  the  sloop-of-war ;  kill- 
ing and  wounding  many  of  the  crew.  But  —  silently 
and  surely  ■ —  she  kept  on  until  within  twenty  yards 
of  the  racing  outlaw. 

Now  was  a  deafening  roar.  A  broadside  howled 
above  the  dancing  spray  —  it  rumbled  from  the  port- 
holes of  the  Englishman  —  cutting  the  fore-mast  of 
the  pirate  in  two;  severing  the  jaws  of  the  main-gaff; 
and  sending  great  clods  of  rigging  to  the  deck.  Ten 
followers  of  Lafitte  fell  prostrate,  but  the  great  French- 
man was  uninjured. 

A  crash,  a  rattle,  a  rush,  and  the  Englishman  ran 
afoul  of  the  foe  —  while  —  with  a  wild  cheer,  her 
sailors  clambered  across  the  starboard  rails;  cutlasses 
in  the  right  hand,  pistols  in  the  left,  dirks  between 
their  teeth. 

"  Never  give  in,  men !  '*  cried  the  King  of  Barra- 
taria.  "  You  are  now  with  Lafitte,  who,  as  you  have 
learned,  does  not  know  how  to  surrender.'* 

But  the  Britishers  were  in  far  superior  numbers. 


LAFITTE  369 

Backwards  —  ever  backwards  —  they  drove  the  des- 
perate crew  of  the  pirate  ship.  Two  pistol  balls  struck 
Lafitte  in  the  side  which  knocked  him  to  the  plank- 
ing; a  grape-shot  broke  the  bone  of  his  right  leg;  he 
was  desperate,  dying,  and  fighting  like  a  tiger.  He 
groaned  in  the  agony  of  despair. 

The  deck  was  slippery  with  blood  as  the  Captain  of 
the  boarders  rushed  upon  the  prostrate  corsair  to  put 
him  forever  out  of  his  way.  While  he  aimed  a  blow 
a  musket  struck  him  in  the  temple,  stretching  him 
beside  the  bleeding  Lafitte,  who,  raising  himself  upon 
one  elbow,  thrust  a  dagger  at  the  throat  of  his  assail- 
ant. 

But  the  tide  of  his  existence  was  ebbing  like  a  tor- 
rent ;  his  brain  was  giddy ;  his  aim  faltered ;  the  point 
of  the  weapon  descended  upon  the  right  thigh  of  the 
bleeding  Englishman.  Again  the  reeking  steel  was 
upheld;  again  the  weakened  French  sea-dog  plunged 
a  stroke  at  this  half-fainting  assailant. 

The  dizziness  of  death  spread  over  the  sight  of  the 
Monarch  of  the  Gulf  of  Mexico.  Down  came  the 
dagger  into  the  left  thigh  of  the  Captain;  listlessly; 
helplessly ;  aimlessly ;  and  Lafitte  —  the  robber  of  St. 
Malo  —  fell  lifeless  upon  the  rocking  deck.  His  spirit 
went  out  amidst  the  hoarse  and  hollow  cheers  of  the 
victorious  Jack-tars  of  the  clinging  sloop-of-war. 

"The  palmetto  leaves  are   whispering,   while  the  gentle  trade- 
winds  blow, 
And  the  soothing,  Southern  zephyrs,  are  sighing  soft  and  low, 
As  a  silvery  moonlight  glistens,  and  the  droning  fire-flies  glow, 
Comes  a  voice  from  out  the  Cypress, 
*  Lights  out !    Lafitte !    Heave  ho ! ' " 


370      FAMOUS   PRIVATEERSMEN 


THE   PIRATE'S    LAMENT 

I've  been  ploughin'  down  in  Devonshire, 

My  folks  would  have  me  stay, 

Where  the  wheat  grows  on  th'  dune  side, 

Where  th'  scamperin'  rabbits  play. 

But  th'  smells  come  from  th'  ocean, 

An'  th'  twitterin'  swallows  wheel, 

As  th'  little  sails  bob  landwards, 

To  th*  scurryin*  sea-gulls'  squeal. 

Oh,  it's  gold,  gold,  gold. 
That's  temptin'  me  from  here. 
An'  it's  rum,  rum,  rum, 
That  makes  me  know  no  fear. 
When  th'  man-o-war    is  growlin', 
As  her  for'ard  swivels  roar. 
As  th'  decks  are  black  with  wounded. 
An*  are  runnin'  red  with  gore. 

I've  been  goin'  to  church  o'  Sundays, 
An'  th'  Parson  sure  can  talk, 
He's  been  pleadin'  for  my  soul,  Sir, 
In  Paradise  to  walk. 
An'  I  kind  o'  have  th'  shivers. 
Come  creepin'  down  my  spine, 
When  th'  choir  breaks  into  music, 
While  th'  organ  beats  th*  time. 

But  ifs  gold,  gold,  goldf 

That  glitters  in  my  eye. 

An'  it's  rum,  rum,  rum. 

That  makes  me  cheat  an*  lie, 

When  th'  slaver's  in  th'  doldrums, 

Th'  fleet  is  closin'  round. 

An'  th'  Captain  calls  out,  furious, 

"Now,  run  th'  hound  aground!" 

No  matter  how  I  farm.  Sir, 
No  matter  how  I  hoe, 
Th'  breezes  from  th'  blue.  Sir, 
Just  kind  uv  make  me  glow. 


LAFITTE  871 


When  th'  clipper  ships  are  racin', 
An'  their  bellyin'  sails  go  past, 
I  just  leave  my  team  an'  swear,  Sir, 
I'll  ship  before  th'  mast. 

For  it's  gold,  gold,  gold, 

That  makes  me  shiver,  like, 

An'  ifs  rum,  rum,  rum, 

That  makes  me  cut  an'  strike, 

When  th'  hoarders  creep  across  th'  rail, 

Their  soljers  all  in  line. 

An'  their  pistols  spittin'  lead.  Sir, 

Like  er  bloomin'  steam  engine. 

So  I'll  kiss  my  plough  good-bye,  Sir, 
I'll  throw  my  scythe  away. 
An'  I'm  goin'  to  th'  dock,  Sir, 
Where  th'  ships  are  side  th'  quay. 
Shake  out  th'  skull  an'  cross-bones. 
Take  out  th'  signs  of  Marque, 
An'  let's  cut  loose  an'  forage. 
In  a  rakish  ten-gun  barque. 


THE   MEN    BEHIND   THE    GUNS 

A  cheer  and  salute  for  the  Admiral,  and  here's  to  the  Captain 

bold, 
And   never   forget  the   Commodore's   debt,   when   the   deeds   of 

might  are  told ! 
They  stand  to  the  deck  through  the  battle's   wreck,   when   the 

great  shells  roar  and  screech  — 
And  never  they  fear,  when  the  foe  is  near,  to  practice  what  they 

preach : 
But,  oflf  with  your  hat,  and  three  times  three,  for  the  war-ship's 

true-blue  sons, 
The  men  who  batter  the  foe  —  my  Boys  —  the  men  behind  the 

guns. 

Oh,  light  and  merry  of  heart  are  they,  when  they  swing  into  port, 

once  more. 
When,  with  more  than  enough  of  the  "green-backed  stuff,"  they 

start  for  their  leave-o'-shore ; 
And  you'd  think,  perhaps,  that  these  blue-bloused  chaps  who  loll 

along  the  street, 
Are  a  tender  bit,  with  salt  on  it,  for  some  fierce  chap  to  eat  — 
Some  warrior  bold,  with  straps  of  gold,  who  dazzles  and  fairly 

stuns 
The  modest  worth  of  the  sailor  boys,  —  the  lads  who  serve  the 

guns. 

But,  say  not  a  word,  till  the  shot  is  heard,  that  tells   of   the 

peace-blood's  ebb. 
Till  the  long,  low  roar  grows  more  and  more,  from  the  ships  of 

the  "Yank"  and  "Reb." 
Till  over  the  deep  the  tempests  sweep,  of  fire  and  bursting  shell, 
And  the  very  air  is  a  mad  Despair,  in  the  throes  of  a  living  Hell : 
Then,  down,  deep  down,  in  the  mighty  ship,  unseen  by  the  mid- 
day suns, 
You'll  find  the  chaps  who  are  giving  the  raps  —  the  men  behind 
the  guns. 

—  RooNEY   {Adapted). 


RAPHAEL   SEMMES 
DESPOILER   OF   AMERICAN   COMMERCE 

(1809 -1877) 


"Sit  apart,  write;  let  them  hear  or  let  them  forbear;  the 
written  word  abides,  until,  slowly  and  unexpectedly,  and  m 
widely  sundered  places,  it  has  created  its  own  church." 

—  Ralph  Waldo  Emerson. 


RAPHAEL    SEMMES 

DESPOILER    OF    AMERICAN    COMMERCE 

(1809 -1877) 

**  We  started  from  Ole  England  f er  to  cripple  up  our  foes, 
We  started  from  Ole  England  fer  to  strike  some  rapid  blows. 
So  we  coasted  to  the  Azores  where  we  ran  a  packet  down, 
And  then  to  the  Bermudas,  where  we  burned  the  Royal  Crown, 
Then  we  scampered  to  Bahia,  fer  to  sink  the  gay  Tycoon, 
And  to  scuttle  the  Justina,  before  the  Harvest  Moon. 
We  hit  across  the  ocean  to  race  by  Cape  Good  Hope 
And  in  Madagascar  channel  towed  Johanna  with  a  rope. 
Away  off  at  Sumatra,  we  had  lots  an'  lots  uv  fun. 
When  we  winged  the  Pulo  Condor;   but  say,  —  we  had  a  run. 
An'  a  pretty  bit  uv  fightin',  when  we  took  the  Emma  Jane 
Off  th'  heated  coast  uv  India,  near  th'  bendin'  sugar  cane. 
Yes,  we  did  some  privateerin',  as  wuz  privateerin',  sure. 
An'  we  scuttled  many  a  schooner,  it  wuz  risky  business  pure. 
But  —  stranger  —  we'd  be  laughin',  jest  filled  with  persiflage. 
If  we  hadn't  had  a  seance  with  that  bloomin'  Kearsarge." 
—  Song  of  the  Chief  Mate  of  the  Alabama.  —  1864. 

IT  was  off  the  east  coast  of  South  America.     The 
year  was  1864,  and  a  little  schooner  —  the  Jus- 
tina —  bobbed  along,  with  the  flag  of  the  United 
States  Government  flying  jauntily  from  her  gaff. 

Suddenly  there  was  a  movement  on  deck.  Men 
rushed  hither  and  thither  with  some  show  of  excite- 
ment. Glasses  were  brought  out  and  raised,  — 
smothered  cries  of  excitement  were  mingled  with  or- 

375 


376      FAMOUS   PRIVATEERSMEN 

ders  to  trim  sails.  All  eyes  looked  with  suspicion  and 
dismay  at  a  long,  graceful  vessel  which  was  seen 
approaching  from  the  northward. 

"  The  Alabama!''  cried  one. 

"  Yes,  the  cursed  Alabama! "  answered  another. 
"We  are  lost!" 

On,  on  came  the  pursuing  vessel ;  a  cloud  of  black 
smoke  rolling  from  her  smoke-stack;  her  white  sails 
bellying  in  the  fresh  breeze;  for  she  was  rigged  like 
a  barquentine,  with  a  lean  body,  single  smoke-stack, 
and  a  polished  rifle-gun  winking  in  the  sun-rays  upon 
her  bow.  On,  on,  she  came,  and  then  —  puif!  boom! 
—  a  single  shot  came  dancing  in  front  of  the  slow- 
moving  schooner. 

"  Pull  down  the  colors !  "  shouted  the  Captain  of 
the  Justina.    "  We're  done  for !  " 

Down  came  the  ensign  of  the  United  States,  and 
the  little  schooner  was  luffed  so  that  she  stood  still. 
The  Alabama  ranged  up  alongside,  a  boat  soon 
brought  a  crew  of  boarders,  and,  before  many  mo- 
ments, she  was  in  the  hands  of  Captain  Raphael 
Semmes  and  his  men. 

That  evening  the  Alabama  steamed  southward,  the 
crew  of  the  Justina  was  on  board,  her  rich  cargo  filled 
the  hold,  and  a  black  curl  of  smoke  and  hissing  flames 
marked  where  the  proud,  little  merchantman  had  once 
bobbed  upon  the  rolling  water.  Raphael  Semmes  was 
happy,  for  his  work  of  destroying  the  commerce  of  the 
United  States  Navy  had  progressed  far  better  than  he 
had  hoped. 

"  Men !  "  cried  he,  "  The  cause  of  the  Confederate 


RAPHAEL    SEMMES. 


RAPHAEL   SEMMES  377 

States  of  America  was  never  brighter  upon  the  ocean 
than  now.  Give  three  times  three  for  Jeff.  Davis  — 
his  soldiers  and  his  sailors !  " 

A  rousing  cheer  rose  above  the  waves,  and  the 
proud  privateer  bounded  onward  upon  her  career  of 
destruction  and  death.  The  Alabama  was  in  the  zenith 
of  her  power. 

The  scene  now  shifts  to  the  harbor  of  Cherbourg, 
upon  the  western  coast  of  France.  The  Alabama  lay 
there,  —  safely  swinging  at  her  anchor-chains  within 
the  break-water.  She  had  come  in  to  re-fit,  for  her 
bottom  was  much  befouled  by  a  long  cruise,  which 
had  been  successful.  Built  at  Birkenhead,  England, 
for  the  Confederate  States  Government,  she  set  sail 
in  August,  1862;  and  had  been  down  the  coast  of 
North  and  South  America ;  around  the  Cape  of  Good 
Hope  to  India,  and  back  to  the  shores  of  France. 
Sixty-six  vessels  had  fallen  into  her  clutches,  and  of 
these  fifty-two  had  been  burned;  ten  had  been  re- 
leased on  bond ;  one  had  been  sold,  and  one  set  free. 
Truly  she  had  had  a  marvellous  trip. 

As  she  slumbered  on  —  like  a  huge  sea-turtle  —  a 
black  cloud  of  smoke  appeared  above  the  break-water, 
and  a  low-bodied  United  States  cruiser  slowly  steamed 
into  the  harbor.  She  nosed  about,  as  if  looking  for 
safe  anchorage,  and  kept  upon  the  opposite  side  of 
the  little  bay. 

Immediately  all  hands  clambered  to  the  side  of  the 
Confederate  cruiser,  and  glasses  were  levelled  at  this 
vessel  which  carried  the  flag  of  opposition. 


378      FAMOUS   PEIVATEERSMEN 

*'  She's  stronger  than  we  are,"  said  one  of  the  crew. 

Another  grinned. 

"  Lx)ok  at  her  eleven-pounders,"  said  he.  "  I  see 
her  name,  now.  She's  the  Kearsarge,  and  about  our 
tonnage,  but  I  reckon  that  she  carries  more  men." 

Captain  Semmes,  himself,  had  come  up  from  below, 
and  was  examining  the  intruder  with  his  glass. 

''  Boys!  "  said  he,  ''  we've  got  to  fight  that  ship." 

And,  as  he  withdrew  into  the  cabin,  all  seemed  to 
be  well  pleased  with  this  announcement. 

The  Kearsarge,  commanded  by  Captain  John  A. 
Winslow,  had  been  lying  at  anchor  in  the  Scheldt,  off 
Flushing,  Holland,  when  a  gun  roared  from  the  for- 
ward part  of  the  ship,  warning  those  officers  who  had 
gone  ashore,  to  come  on  board.  Steam  was  raised, 
and,  as  soon  as  all  were  collected  on  deck,  the  Captain 
read  a  telegram  from  Mr.  Dayton,  the  Minister  to 
France  from  the  United  States.    It  said : 

"  The  Alabama  has  arrived  at  Cherbourg.  Come 
at  once  or  she  will  escape  you !  " 

"  I  believe  that  we'll  have  an  opportunity  to  fight 
her,"  said  Captain  Winslow.     "  So  be  prepared." 

At  this,  all  of  his  sailors  cheered  wildly. 

The  Kearsarge  was  a  staunch  craft;  she  was  two 
hundred  and  thirty-two  feet  over  all,  with  thirty- 
three  feet  of  beam,  and  carried  seven  guns;  two 
eleven  inch  pivots,  smooth  bore ;  one  thirty-pound  rifle, 
and  four  light  thirty-two  pounders.  Her  crew  num- 
bered one  hundred  and  sixty-three  men.  The  sleep- 
ing Alabama  had  but  one  hundred  and  forty-nine  souls 
on  board,  and  eight  guns:    one  sixty-eight  pounder 


RAPHAEL   SEMMES  379 

pivot  rifle,  smooth  bore;  one  one  hundred-pounder 
pivot,  and  six  heavy  thirty-two  pounders.  So,  you 
see,  that  the  two  antagonists  were  evenly  matched, 
with  the  superior  advantage  of  the  numbers  of  men  on 
the  Kearsarge  offset  by  the  extra  guns  of  her  oppo- 
nent. 

Most  of  the  officers  upon  the  Kearsarge  were  from 
the  merchant  service,  and,  of  the  crew,  only  eleven 
were  of  foreign  birth.  Most  of  the  officers  upon  the 
Alabama  had  served  in  the  navy  of  the  United  States ; 
while  nearly  all  of  her  crew  were  either  English, 
Irish,  or  Welsh.  A  few  of  the  gunners  had  been 
trained  aboard  the  Excellent:  a  British  training  ship 
in  Portsmouth  Harbor.  Her  Captain  —  Raphael 
Semmes  —  was  once  an  officer  in  the  navy  of  the 
United  States.  He  had  served  in  the  Mexican  War, 
but  had  joined  the  Southern  cause,  as  he  was  a 
Marylander.  He  was  an  able  navigator  and  sea- 
man. 

The  Kearsarge  cruised  about  the  port  of  Cher- 
bourg, poked  her  bows  nearly  into  the  break-water, 
and  then  withdrew.  The  French  neutrality  law  would 
only  allow  a  foreign  vessel  to  remain  in  a  harbor  for 
twenty-four  hours. 

"  Will  she  come  out?  "  was  the  question  now  upon 
every  lip  aboard  the  Kearsarge.  "  Will  she  come  out 
and  fight?  Oh,  just  for  one  crack  at  this  destroyer 
of  our  commerce!  " 

But  she  did  not  come  out,  and  the  Kearsarge  beat 
around  the  English  Channel  in  anxious  suspense. 

Several  days  later  Captain  Winslow  went  ashore 


380      FAMOUS   PRIVATEERSMBN 

and  paid  a  visit  to  the  United  States  Commercial 
Agent. 

''  That  beastly  pirate  will  not  fight,"  he  thought. 
"  All  she  wants  to  do  is  to  run  away." 

Imagine  how  his  eyes  shone  when  he  was  handed 
the  following  epistle ! 

"  C.  S.  S.  Alabama,  Cherbourg,  June  14th,  1864. 
"To  A.  BoNFiLS,  Esqr.,  Cherbourg; 

"  Sir  :  —  I  hear  that  you  were  informed  by  the 
United  States  Consul  that  the  Kearsarge  was  to  come 
to  this  port  solely  for  the  prisoners  landed  by  me,  and 
that  she  was  to  depart  in  twenty-four  hours.  I  desire 
you  to  say  to  the  U.  S.  Consul  that  my  intention  is 
to  fight  the  Kearsarge  as  soon  as  I  can  make  the 
necessary  arrangements.  I  hope  these  will  not  detain 
me  more  than  until  to-morrow  evening,  or  after  the 
morrow  morning  at  furthest.  I  beg  she  will  not  de- 
part before  I  am  ready  to  go  out. 

"  I  have  the  honor  to  be,  very  respectfully, 
"  Your  obedient  servant, 

"  R.  Semmes,  Captain." 

"  Ha !  Ha!  "  chuckled  Winslow.  "  We're  in  for  it, 
now.  Hurray !  "  and  he  hastened  back  to  his  ship  to 
spread  the  glad  tidings. 

"  My  boys !  "  said  he  to  his  crew.  "  It  is  probable 
that  the  two  ships  will  engage  on  parallel  lines,  and, 
if  defeated,  the  Alabama  will  seek  for  neutral  waters. 
It  is  necessary,  therefore,  that  we  begin  this  action 
several  miles  from  the  break- water.     The  Alabama 


RAPHAEL   SBMMES  381 

must  believe  that  she  can  win,  or  she  would  not  fight 
us,  for,  if  we  sink  her,  she  cannot  be  replaced  by  the 
Confederate  Government.  As  for  ourselves,  let  us 
never  give  up,  and  —  if  we  sink  —  let  us  go  down  with 
the  flag  flying!" 

''Hear!  Hear!"  cried  all.  "We're  with  you, 
Captain.     Never  give  up  the  ship!  " 

"Clean  decks,  boys!"  continued  brave  Winslow. 
"  Get  everything  ship-shape  for  the  coming  affair,  for 
we're  in  for  as  tight  a  little  fight  as  e'er  you  entered 
upon." 

Preparations  were  immediately  made  for  battle,  but 
no  Alabama  appeared. 

Thursday  passed;  Friday  came;  the  Kearsarge 
waited  in  the  channel  with  ports  down;  guns  pivoted 
to  starboard;  the  whole  battery  loaded;  and  shell, 
grape,  and  canister  ready  to  use  in  any  method  of 
attack  or  defence,  —  but  no  Alabama  appeared.  A 
French  pilot-boat  drifted  near,  and  the  black-eyed 
skipper  cried  out, 

"  You  fellers  look  out  for  ze  Alabama.  She  take 
in  much  coal.  Whew !  She  take  much  of  ze  captured 
stuff  ashore.  Whew!  She  scrub  ze  deck.  Whew! 
She  put  ze  sailors  to  ze  business  of  sharpening  ze  cut- 
lass and  ze  dirk.  Whew!  You  look  out  for  ze  great 
privateer !    Whew !  " 

Captain  Winslow  only  smiled. 

"  Zey  have  ze  big  feast,"  continued  the  Frenchman. 
"  Zey  dr-e-e-nk  ze  wine.  Zey  stan'  on  ze  chairs  and 
zey  say,  *  We  will  seenk  ze  Yankee  dog/  Ta  done ! 
Zey  call  you  ze  dog !  " 


382      FAMOUS   PRIVATEERSMEN 

And  still  Captain  Winslow  smiled.  But,  next  day, 
his  smile  turned  to  a  frown. 

It  'was  Sunday,  the  nineteenth  day  of  June.  The 
weather  was  beautiful ;  the  atmosphere  was  somewhat 
hazy;  the  wind  was  light;  and  there  was  Httle  sea. 
At  ten  o'clock  the  Kearsarge  was  drifting  near  a  buoy 
about  three  miles  eastward  from  the  entrance  of  Cher- 
bourg break-water.  Her  decks  had  been  newly  holy- 
stoned; the  brass  work  had  been  cleaned;  the  guns 
polished,  and  the  crew  had  on  their  Sunday  clothes. 
They  had  been  inspected,  and  dismissed  —  in  order  to 
attend  divine  service. 

At  1.20  a  cry  rang  out : 

"She  comes!" 

The  bell  was  tolling  for  prayers. 

"  The  Alabama!  The  Alabama!  She's  moving, 
and  heading  straight  for  us !  " 

All  rushed  to  the  deck;  the  drum  beat  to  quarters. 
Captain  Winslow  laid  aside  his  prayer-book,  seized 
his  trumpet,  ordered  the  boat  about,  and  headed  sea- 
ward. The  ship  was  cleared  for  action  and  the  bat- 
tery was  pivoted  to  starboard. 

Yes,  she  was  coming! 

From  the  western  entrance  of  the  safe,  little  French 
seaport  steamed  the  long-bodied,  low-hulled  priva- 
teer :  her  rakish  masts  bending  beneath  the  spread  of 
canvas:  her  tall  funnel  belching  sepia  smoke.  A 
French  iron-clad  frigate  —  the  Couronne  —  accom- 
panied her,  flying  the  pennant  of  the  Commander-of- 
the-Port.  In  her  wake  plodded  a  tiny  fore-and-aft- 
rigged  steamer-yacht:    the  Deerhound,  showing  the 


RAPHAEL   SEMMES  383 

flag  of  the  Royal  Mersey  (British)  Yacht  Club.  The 
frigate  —  having  convoyed  the  Confederate  privateer 
to  the  limit  of  the  French  waters  (three  marine  miles 
from  the  coast)  —  put  down  her  helm  and  ploughed 
back  into  port.  The  steam  yacht  continued  on.  and 
remained  near  the  scene  of  action. 

As  the  Alabama  had  started  upon  her  dash  into  the 
open,  Captain  Semmes  had  mounted  a  gun-carriage, 
and  had  cried, 

"  Officers  and  Seamen  of  the  Alabama: 

"  You  have  at  length  another  opportunity  of  meet- 
ing the  enemy  —  the  first  that  has  been  presented  to 
you  since  you  sank  the  Hatter  as!  In  the  meantime 
you  have  been  all  over  the  world,  and  it  is  not  too 
much  to  say  that  you  have  destroyed,  and  driven  for 
protection  under  neutral  flags,  one^half  of  the  enemy's 
commerce,  which,  at  the  beginning  of  the  war,  cov- 
ered every  sea.  This  is  an  achievement  of  which  you 
may  well  be  proud,  and  a  grateful  country  will  not 
be  unmindful  of  it.  The  name  of  your  ship  has  be- 
come a  household  word  wherever  civilization  extends ! 
Shall  that  name  be  tarnished  by  defeat?  The  thing 
is  impossible!  Remember  that  you  are  in  the  English 
Channel,  the  theatre  of  so  much  of  the  naval  glory 
of  our  race,  and  that  the  eyes  of  all  Europe  are,  at 
this  moment,  upon  you.  The  flag  that  floats  over 
you  IS  that  of  a  young  Republic,  which  bids  defiance 
to  her  enemies  whenever  and  wherever  found !  Show 
the  world  that  you  know  how  to  uphold  it!  Go  to 
your  quarters ! " 

A  wild  yell  had  greeted  these  stirring  expressions. 


384      FAMOUS    PRIVATEERSMEN 

The  shore  was  black  with  people,  for  the  word  had 
been  passed  around  that  the  two  sea-warriors  were  to 
grapple  in  deadly  embrace.  Even  a  special  train  had 
come  from  Paris  to  bring  the  sober  townsfolk  to 
Cherbourg,  where  they  could  view  the  contest.  They 
were  chattering  among  themselves,  like  a  flock  of  mag- 
pies. 

**  Voila !  "  said  a  fair  damsel,  whose  eyes  were  fairly 
shining  with  excitement.  "  Oh,  I  hope  zat  ze  beeg 
gray  fellow  weel  win." 

She  meant  the  Alabama,  for  the  Confederates 
dressed  in  that  sober  color. 

"  Zis  ees  ze  naval  Waterloo !  "  whispered  a  veteran 
of  the  Crimean  War. 

It  was  10.50  o'clock.  The  Kearsarge  had  been 
steaming  out  to  sea,  but  now  she  wheeled.  She  was 
seven  miles  from  shore  and  one  and  one-quarter  miles 
from  her  opponent.  She  steered  directly  for  her,  as 
if  to  ram  her  and  crush  through  her  side.  The  Ala- 
bama sheered  off  and  presented  her  starboard  battery. 
The  Kearsarge  came  on,  rapidly,  and  —  at  10.57  was 
about  eighteen  hundred  yards  from  her  enemy  —  then 
—  Crash!  Roar!  A  broadside  thundered  from  the 
Confederate  privateer,  while  the  solid  shot  screamed 
through  the  rigging  of  the  Yankee  man-of-war. 

On!  On!  came  Captain  Winslow's  gallant  craft, 
while  a  second  and  a  third  broadside  crashed  into  her. 
The  rigging  tore  and  swayed,  but  she  was  little  in- 
jured.    She  was  now  within  nine  hundred  yards. 

"  Sheer!   Sheer!  '*  cried  the  Union  Commander. 

The  Kearsarge  spun  off  and  broke  her  long  silence 


RAPHAEL   SEMMES  385 

with  the  starboard  battery.  Crash!  Roar!  the  shells 
pounded  around  the  great  privateer,  and,  with  a  full 
head  of  steam,  the  corsair  of  the  Southern  Confed- 
eracy swept  onward.  Crash!  Roar!  she  answered 
with  shell,  and  the  bursting  iron  shivered  the  fore- 
mast of  her  doughty  opponent. 

Captain  Winslow  was  fearful  that  the  enemy  would 
make  for  the  shore,  so  he  spun  over  his  helm  to  port 
in  the  endeavor  to  run  under  the  Alabama's  stern  and 
rake  her.  But  she  sheered  off,  kept  her  broadside 
to  him,  and  pounded  away  like  a  pugilist.  The  ships 
were  a  quarter  of  a  mile  (440  yards)  away  from  each 
other.  They  were  circling  around  in  a  wide  arc,  plug- 
ging away  as  fast  as  they  could  load.  The  spectators 
cheered,  for  it  was  as  good  a  show  as  they  had  ever 
witnessed. 

"  Eet  ees  fine !  "  said  the  veteran  of  the  Crimea. 
"  Eet  remin'  me  of  ze  battaile  at  Balaklava !  " 

Suddenly  a  wild  cheer  rose  from  the  deck  of  the 
United  States  cruiser.  A  shot  had  struck  the  spanker- 
gaff  on  the  enemy  and  her  ensign  had  come  down  on 
the  run. 

"  Hurray !  "  shouted  the  seamen.  "  That  means 
we'll  win,  sure !  " 

The  fallen  ensign  re-appeared  at  the  mizzen,  while 
firing  from  the  Alabama  became  rapid  and  wild.  The 
gunners  of  the  Kearsarge  had  been  cautioned  against 
shooting  without  direct  aim,  and  had  been  told  to  point 
their  heavy  guns  below,  rather  than  above  the  water- 
line. 

Captain  Winslow  was  busy  with  his  orders. 


386      FAMOUS   PEIVATEERSMEN 

"  Clear  the  enemy's  deck  with  the  light  guns ! "  he 
shouted.  ''  Sink  the  Confederate  with  the  heavy 
iron!" 

Cheer  succeeded  cheer  from  his  sailors.  Caps  were 
thrown  into  the  air,  or  overboard.  Jackets  were 
tossed  aside.  Now,  certain  of  victory,  the  men  were 
shouting  wildly,  as  each  projectile  took  effect. 

"  That's  a  good  one !  " 

"  Down,  boys,  down !  " 

"  Give  her  another  like  the  last !  " 

"  Now  —  we  have  her !  " 

The  vessels  continued  to  swing  around  each  other 
in  wide  circles,  and  —  at  this  moment  —  a  sixty-eight 
pound  Blakely  shell  passed  through  the  starboard  bul- 
warks of  the  Kearsarge  below  the  main  rigging,  ex- 
ploded on  the  quarter-deck,  and  wounded  three  of 
the  crew  of  the  after  pivot-gun.  The  three  unfor- 
tunate men  were  speedily  taken  below,  but  the  act  was 
done  so  quietly,  that  —  at  the  termination  of  the  fight 
—  a  large  number  of  the  crew  were  unaware  that  any 
of  their  comrades  were  injured. 

Two  shots  now  crashed  through  the  port-holes  oc- 
cupied by  the  thirty-two  pounders;  one  exploded  in 
the  hammock-netting;  the  other  shrieked  through  the 
opposite  port ;  yet  no  one  was  hurt.  Fire  blazed  from 
the  deck;  the  alarm  calling  for  fire-quarters  was 
sounded,  and  the  men  who  had  been  detailed  for  this 
emergency  put  it  out.    The  rest  stayed  at  the  guns. 

The  eleven-inch  shells  were  doing  terrible  execution 
upon  the  quarter-deck  of  the  Alabama.  Three  of 
them  crashed  into  the  eight-inch  pivot-gun  port;   the 


RAPHAEL   SEMMES  387 

first  swept  off  the  forward  part  of  the  gun's  crew; 
the  second  killed  one  man  and  wounded  several  others ; 
the  third  struck  the  breast  of  the  gun-carriage  and 
spun  around  on  the  deck  until  one  of  the  men  picked 
it  up  and  threw  it  overboard.  The  ship  was  careening 
heavily  to  starboard,  while  the  decks  were  covered 
with  the  dead  and  dying.  A  shell  plunged  into  the 
coal  bunker  and  a  dense  cloud  of  coal  dust  arose. 
Crippled  and  torn,  the  hulking  privateer  began  to 
settle  by  the  stern.  Her  guns  still  spat  and  growled, 
and  her  broadsides  were  going  wild.  She  was  fast 
weakening. 

"  Any  one  who  silences  that  after  pivot-gun  will 
get  one  hundred  dollars !  "  cried  Captain  Semmes,  as 
he  saw  the  fearful  accuracy  of  its  fire. 

Crash!  a  whole  broadside  from  the  privateer  spat 
at  this  particular  piece.    It  was  in  vain. 

Around  and  around  circled  the  belching  Kearsarge. 
Seven  times  she  had  swooped  about  the  weakening 
gladiator  of  the  sea,  and  her  fire  was  more  and  more 
accurate.  She  was  like  a  great  eagle  closing  in  for 
a  deaththrust.  Captain  Semmes  was  in  a  desperate 
situation. 

"Hoist  the  fore-try-sail  and  jibs!"  he  called  out 
above  the  din  of  cannon.  "  Head  for  the  French 
coast !  " 

As  the  sailors  scrambled  to  obey,  the  Alabama  pre- 
sented her  port  battery  to  the  Kearsarge.  She  showed 
gaping  sides  and  only  two  guns  were  bearing. 

At  this  moment  the  chief  engineer  came  up  on  the 
deck  of  the  privateer. 


388      FAMOUS   PEIVATEEESMEN 

*'  The  fires  are  all  out  and  the  engines  will  not 
work !  "  he  reported  to  Captain  Semmes. 

The  doughty  sea-man  turned  to  his  chief  executive 
officer,  Mr.  Kell. 

"  Go  below,  sir,"  he  shouted,  "  and  see  how  long  the 
ship  can  float !  " 

In  a  few  moments  the  sailor  had  returned  from  his 
inspection. 

"  Captain !  "  cried  he,  saluting.  '*  She  will  not  stay 
on  the  sea  for  ten  minutes." 

The  face  of  the  Confederate  was  ashen,  as  he  an- 
swered, 

"  Then,  sir,  cease  firing,  shorten  sail,  and  haul  down 
the  colors.  It  will  never  do  in  this  Nineteenth  Cen- 
tury for  us  to  go  down  with  the  decks  covered  with 
our  gallant  wounded !  " 

As  he  ceased  speaking,  a  broadside  roared  from  the 
side  of  his  sinking  vessel.  The  ensign  of  the  Kear- 
sarge  had  been  stopped  (rolled  up  and  tied  with  a 
J  piece  of  twine)  and,  as  a  shell  crashed  through  her 
'  rigging,  a  piece  hit  the  flag-halyards  —  parted  them  — 
and  unstopped  the  flag.  It  unfurled  itself  gallantly 
in  the  breeze,  and,  as  its  beautiful  striping  waved  aloft, 
the  sailors  upon  the  deck  gave  a  loud  cheer,  for  this 
was  the  omen  of  Victory. 

At  this  moment,  two  of  the  junior  officers  upon  the 
Alabama  swore  that  they  would  never  surrender,  and, 
in  a  spirit  of  mutiny,  rushed  to  the  two  port  guns 
and  opened  fire  upon  the  Union  vessel. 

"  He  is  playing  us  a  trick ! "  shouted  Winslow. 
"  Give  him  another  broadside ! 


RAPHAEL  SEMMES  389 

Again  the  shot  and  shell  went  crashing  through 
the  sides  of  the  Confederate  cruiser.  The  Kearsarge 
was  laid  across  her  bows  for  raking,  and,  in  a  posi- 
tion to  use  grape  and  canister. 

A  white  flag  was  then  shown  over  the  stem  of  the 
Alabama  and  her  ensign  was  half-masted;  Union 
down. 

"  Cease  firing !  "  shouted  Captain  Winslow. 

The  great  fight  was  over.  It  had  lasted  one  hour 
and  two  minutes. 

Chugety,  plug,  splash!  The  boats  were  lowered 
from  the  Alabama,  and  her  Master's  mate  rowed  to 
the  Kearsarge,  with  a  few  of  his  wounded. 

"  We  are  sinking,"  said  he.  "  You  must  come  and 
help  us !  " 

"  Does  Captain  Semmes  surrender  his  ship  ?  "  asked 
Winslow. 

"Yes!" 

"  All  right.    Then  I'll  help  you !  " 

Fullam  grinned. 

"  May  I  return  with  this  boat  and  crew  in  order 
to  rescue  the  drowning?"  he  asked.  "  I  pledge  you 
my  word  of  honor  that  I  will  then  come  on  board  and 
surrender." 

Captain  Winslow  granted  his  request. 

With  less  generosity,  the  victorious  Commander 
could  have  detained  the  officers  and  men,  supplied  their 
places  with  his  own  sailors,  and  offered  equal  aid  to 
the  distressed.  His  generosity  was  abused.  Fullam 
pulled  to  the  midst  of  the  drowning;  rescued  several 
officers;    went  to  the  yacht  Deerhound,  and  cast  his 


390      FAMOUS   PRIVATEERSMEN 

boat  adrift;  leaving  a  number  of  men  struggling  in 
the  water. 

The  Alabama  was  settling  fast. 

"All  hands  overboard!"  cried  Mr.  Kell.  "Let 
every  man  grab  a  life-preserver,  or  a  spar." 

As  the  sailors  plunged  into  the  sea,  Captain  Semmes 
dropped  his  sword  into  the  waves  and  leaped  outward, 
with  a  life-preserver  around  his  waist.  Kell  followed, 
while  the  Alabama  launched  her  bows  high  in  the  air, 
and  —  graceful,  even  in  her  death  throes  —  plunged 
stem-foremost  into  the  deep.  A  sucking  eddy  of 
foam,  spars,  and  wreckage  marked  where  once  had 
floated  the  gallant  ship. 

Thus  sank  the  terror  of  the  merchantmen  —  riddled 
through  and  through  —  and  no  cheer  arose  as  her  bat- 
tered hulk  went  down  in  forty-five  fathoms  of  water. 
Her  star  had  set. 

The  Deerhound  had  kept  about  a  mile  to  windward 
of  the  two  contestants,  but  she  now  steamed  towards 
the  mass  of  living  heads,  which  dotted  the  surface  of 
the  sea.  Her  two  boats  were  lowered,  and  Captain 
Semmes  was  picked  up  and  taken  aboard,  with  forty 
others.  She  then  edged  to  the  leeward  and  steamed 
rapidly  away. 

An  officer  quickly  approached  Captain  Winslow. 

"  Better  fire  a  shot  at  the  yacht,"  he  said,  saluting. 
"  She's  got  Captain  Semmes  aboard  and  will  run  off 
with  him." 

Winslow  smiled. 

"  It's  impossible,"  said  he.  "  She's  simply  coming 
around ! " 


RAPHAEL   SEMMES  391 

But  the  Deerhound  kept  on. 

Another  officer  approached  the  commander  of  the 
Kearsarge. 

"  That  beastly  yacht  is  carrying  off  our  men,"  said 
he.    "  Better  bring  her  to,  Captain!  " 

"  No  Englishman  who  carries  the  flag  of  the 
Royal  Yacht  Squadron  can  so  act ! "  Winslow  re- 
plied, —  somewhat  pettishly.  "  She's  simply  coming 
around." 

But  she  never  "  came  around,"  and  Captain  Raphael 
Semmes  was  soon  safe  upon  British  soil.  He  had 
fought  a  game  fight.  The  superior  gunnery  of  the 
sailors  of  the  Kearsarge  had  been  too  much  for  him. 
Nine  of  his  crew  were  dead  and  twenty-one  wounded, 
while  the  Kearsarge  had  no  one  killed  and  but 
three  wounded;  one  of  whom  died  shortly  after- 
wards. 

Thus,  —  the  lesson  is : 

If  you  want  to  win:  Learn  how  to  shoot 
straight ! 

Captain  Raphael  Semmes  died  quietly  at  Mobile, 
Alabama,  August  30th,  1877.  His  ill-fated  Alabama 
had  inflicted  a  loss  of  over  seven  million  dollars  upon 
the  commerce  of  the  United  States. 

A  number  of  wise  men  met,  many  years  afterwards, 
in  Geneva,  Switzerland,  and  decided,  that,  as  the  Brit- 
ish Government  had  allowed  this  vessel  to  leave  their 
shores,  when  warned  by  the  American  minister  of  her 
character  and  intention  to  go  privateering,  it  should 
therefore  pay  for  all  the  vessels  which  the  graceful 


392       FAMOUS   PRIVATEERSMEN 

cruiser  had  destroyed.     England  had  broken  the  neu- 
trality laws. 

John  Bull  paid  up. 
But, 

—  Boys  — 
it 

hurt! 


EL    CAPITAN 

<«  r  I   ^HERE  was  a  Captain-General  who  ruled  in 
I  Vera  Cruz, 

And  what  we  used  to  hear  of  him  was  always 
evil  news : 
He  was  a  pirate  on  the  sea  —  a  robber  on  the  shore, 
The  Seiior  Don  Alonzo  Estaban  San  Salvador. 

"  There  was  a  Yankee  skipper  who  round  about  did 

roam; 
His  name  was  Stephen  Folger,  —  Nantucket  was  his 

home: 
And  having  sailed  to  Vera  Cruz,  he  had  been  skinned 

full  sore 
By  the  Sefior  Don  Alonzo  Estaban  San  Salvador. 

"  But  having  got  away  alive,  though  all  his  cash  was 

gone, 
He  said,  '  If  there  is  vengeance,  I  will  surely  try  it  on ! 
And  I  do  wish  that  I  may  be  hung,  —  if  I  don't  clear 

the  score 
With  Sefior  Don  Alonzo  Estaban  San  Salvador.* 

"  He  shipped  a  crew  of  seventy  men  —  well-armed 

men  were  they, 
And  sixty  of  them  in  the  hold  he  darkly  stowed  away ; 

393 


394      FAMOUS   PEIVATEERSMEN 

And,  sailing  back  to  Vera  Cruz,  was  sighted  from  the 

shore 
By  the  Senor  Don  Alonzo  Estaban  San  Salvador. 

**  With   twenty-five  soldados,  he   came   on   board,    so 

pleased. 
And   said    *  Maldito,    Yankee,  —  again   your   ship   is 

seized. 
How  many  sailors  have  you  got  ?  '    Said  Folger,  '  Ten 

—  no  more,* 
To  the  Captain  Don  Alonzo  Estaban  San  Salvador. 

"  '  But  come  into  my  cabin  and  take  a  glass  of  wine, 

I  do  suppose,  as  usual,  I'll  have  to  pay  a  fine : 

I've  got  some  old  Madeira,  and  we'll  talk  the  matter 

o'er  — 
My  Captain  Don  Alonzo  Estaban  San  Salvador.' 

"And,    as    over    the    Madeira    the    Captain-General 

boozed. 
It  seemed  to  him  as  if  his  head  were  getting  quite 

confused ; 
For,  it  happened  that  some  morphine  had  travelled 

from  '  the  Store  ' 
To  the  glass  of  Don  Alonzo  Estaban  San  Salvador. 

"  *  What  is  it  makes  the  vessel  roll  ?    What  sounds  are 

these  I  hear? 
It  seems  as  if  the  rising  waves  were  beating  on  my 

^ar!' 


EL    CAPITAN  395 

*  Oh,  it  is  the  breaking  of  the  surf  —  just  that,  and 

nothing  more, 
My  Captain  Don  Alonzo  Estaban  San  Salvador ! ' 

"  The  Governor  was  in  a  sleep,  which  muddled  up  his 
brains ; 

The  seventy  men  had  caught  his  '  gang  '  and  put  them 
all  in  chains; 

And,  when  he  woke  the  following  day,  he  could  not 
see  the  shore, 

For  he  was  away  out  on  the  sea  —  the  Don  San  Sal- 
vador. 

"  '  Now  do  you  see  the  yard-arm  —  and  understand 

the  thing?' 
Said  rough,  old  Folger,  viciously  —  *  for  this  is  where 

you'll  swing. 
Or  forty  thousand  dollars  you  shall  pay  me  from  your 

store. 
My  Captain  Don  Alonzo  Estaban  San  Salvador ! ' 

"  The  Captain  he  took  up  a  pen  —  the  order  he  did 
sign  — 

*  O  my,  but  Senor  Yankee  j     You  charge  great  guns 

for  wine ! ' 
Yet  it  was  not  until  the  draft  was  paid,  they  let  him 

go  ashore, 
El  Seiior  Don  Alonzo  Estaban  San  Salvador. 


396      FAMOUS   PRIVATEERSMEN 


"  The  greater  sharp  will  some  day  find  another  sharper 

wit; 
It  always  makes  the  Devil  laugh  to  see  a  biter  bit; 
It  takes  two  Spaniards,  any  day,  to  comb  a  Yankee 

o'er  — 
Even  two  like  Don  Alonzo  Estaban  San  Salvador." 


RETROSPECT 

THE  curtain  falls,  the  plays  are  done, 
To  roar  of  shell  and  shock  of  gun; 
The  scuttled  shipping  bobs  and  sways, 
In  grime  and  muck  of  shallow  bays. 
The  tattered  ensigns  mould'ring  lie. 
As  diving  otters  bark  and  cry ; 
While  —  in  the  lee  of  crumbling  piers, 
The  rotting  hulk  its  decking  rears. 
Gray,  screaming  kestrels  wheel  and  sheer. 
Above  the  wasted  steering  gear. 
In  moulding  kelp  and  mackerel's  sheen, 
The  blighted  log-book  hides  unseen. 
Red  flash  the  beams  of  northern  blaze. 
Through  beaded  clouds  of  Elmo's  haze; 
While  dim,  unkempt,  the  ghostly  crew 
Float  by,  and  chant  the  lesson  true! 

Sons  of  the  fog-bound  Northland;  sons  of  the  blind- 
ing seas, 

If  ye  would  cherish  the  trust  which  your  fathers  left, 

Ye  must  strive  —  ye  must  work  —  without  ease. 

Strong  have  your  good  sires  battled,  oft.  have  your 
fathers  bled. 

If  ye  would  hold  up  the  flag  which  they've  never  let 
sag, 

897 


398      FAMOUS   PRIVATEEESMEISI 

Ye  must  plod  —  ye  must  creep  where  they've  led. 

The  shimmering  icebergs  call  you;  the  plunging 
screw-drums  scream, 

By  shallowing  shoals  they  haul  you,  to  the  beat  of  the 
walking  beam. 

The  twisting  petrels  chatter,  as  ye  drift  by  the  waiting 
fleet. 

In  your  towering  grim,  gray  Dreadnought,  —  a  king 
who  sneers  at  defeat. 

While  the  silken  pennons  flutter;  as  the  frozen  hal- 
yards strain; 

Comes  the  growling  old-world  mutter,  the  voice  of 
the  million  slain : 

Keep  to  your  manly  war  games;   keep  to  your  war- 
rior's flay. 
Though  the  dove  of  peace  is  dancing  to  the  sounding 

truce  harp's  lay. 
Arbitrate  if  you  have  to;  smooth  it  o'er  if  you  must, 
But,  he  prepared  for  battle,  to  parry  the  war  king's 

thrust. 
Don't  foster  the  chip  on  the  shoulder;  don't  hasten  the 

slap  in  the  face. 
But,  burnish  your  sword,  ere  you're  older,  —  the  blade 

of  the  ancient  race. 
Hark  to  the  deeds  of  your  fathers;  cherish  the  stories 

I've  told. 
Then  —  go  and  do  like,  if  you  have  to  —  and  die  — 

like  a  Hero  of  Old, 

'.5> 


14  DAY  USE 

RETURN  TO  DESK  FROM  WHICH  BORROWED     j^RY 

LOAN  DEPT. 

This  book  is  due  on  the  last  date  stamped  below,  or       1. 
on  the  date  to  which  renewed. 
Renewed  books  are  subject  to  immediate  recall.         1  below. 


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